


An Honest Mistake

by Cupcake_Princess



Series: Redamancy [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Junkrat being Junkrat, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes Has ADHD, Mercy is a tired lady, Mercyrat, Post-Talon, Post-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Slow Burn, Spiderbyte, and it's VERY GAY in places, neither ship is background really, past moircy, sombra is a double agent, sue me, tobacco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcake_Princess/pseuds/Cupcake_Princess
Summary: Talon didn't go down easy, but eventually Overwatch won. For Mercy however, the real fight has only just begun.Who is Agent #0221? Will Jamison Fawkes go a full week without blowing himself up? And where's her coffee?More tags to come.





	1. Agent #0221

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fan fiction 0_0. I was really happy writing Mercyrat, and hope that translates through my writing!

“Urrghhh,” Angela moaned, lifting her head off her desk only to turn and place the other side back down. There was a small pool of drool forming on the stack of paperwork she’d been using as a pillow. Thankfully, the top layer was plastic; a declassified file she was yet to open. God knows how long she’d been out for. _Such a fitting end to a truly terrible week_ , Angela thought, grimly replaying recent events in her semi-conscious mind.

Genji’s suit had needed a patch installing. Nothing serious of course, a minor upgrade to decrease reload time by less than half a second. Simple stuff, but tedious. Two junior operatives were injured in an explosion. Both with concussions, but apart from that, fine. Winston had asked her to keep an eye on them personally. Again, purely routine, but boring as hell.

Many more minor incidents and hours in front of her computer later, and she was sick of being here.

She’d been looking forward to a little break and had made plans for drinks. Then Lena and Fareeha cancelled on her, both summoned to Gibraltar with the utmost urgency.

Of course, it wasn’t their fault. She’d be stupid to think it so. _It’s just how this job works._

And then there was today. Girls’ night had gone up in flames, so getting some much-needed sleep was next on her list of priorities. She’d had maybe two hours, then the phone rang.

Being called out over developments in a patient was usually necessary and fulfilling, but not when it was at three in the morning, and due to an intern’s honest mistake. She was secretly fuming that the night super hadn’t confirmed his findings, her meticulous system of triple checking falling apart whenever she left.

She didn’t have the heart to tell the intern he’d been wrong. The kid was working a placement in nanotechnology, and he was really into it. But he was tired too. They all were. So she’d sent them home for the weekend and slept at her desk, monitoring everything herself. Not like she hadn’t before. And this was one patient they had to get right.

Luckily, she wasn’t too busy today. Routine appointments mostly. And nothing until nine thirty.

She clenched her eyes shut, wishing that for once no one would require a prescription. _No further testing either… there’s some wishful thinking_. Her silence was interrupted however, when a disposable coffee mug thumped down next to her nose. The doctor winced.

Glancing up, she recognised the bearer of caffeine to be one of Overwatch’s ‘newest recruits’. She straightened. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

Sombra grinned. “ _De nada_. You’re tired, and I don’t wanna be checked out by a sleepy doc.” She winked. “I got here early, and you were still passed out.”

“Shit,” Angela murmured, rubbing her eyes and throwing a glance at the clock. “Didn’t realise it was that late.”

“Drink. I’ll wait for you to wake up,” Sombra laughed a little, taking a seat. “Hard night out?”

Angela grimaced. “Try incompetent supers. I slept here.”

“Ouch. And here was me thinking you’d had fun last night.” Angela smiled, gratefully lifting the cup to her lips. It was far too hot to drink yet, so she just held it, breathing in the strong scent.

“How has debriefing been going?” She murmured, eyeing her new patient. The team had been filled in on the vague details of the woman’s position a month ago, but due to Angela’s status as a medic, she’d been privy to a few more than most. Sombra had just returned from years of undercover work, acting as a double agent to Talon. Almost every Overwatch field operative knew the name, but few had ever seen her. Optical camouflage and translocation to blame for that. Of course, to keep her cover, she’d sent many an agent to Angela’s office. None of them had ever died, she only did enough damage to mildly incapacitate. A short treatment from Caduceus, and they were back to normal.

Angela didn’t know what to expect when they’d first met. Sombra was around average height, with a slim build and an infectious laugh. If she hadn’t attended her recent field fitness test and seen the ease and grace she carried her Uzi, the doctor would not have believed that the bright-eyed woman before her sent so many good agents into her care. She preferred to go by her call sign, and Angela guessed that after so many years of using it as a name it would sound odd to be called anything else. She knew many agents who were the same.

“Eh, so-so,” Sombra smirked. “I appear to have pissed off quite a few people while undercover.”

Angela snorted. “Your reputation proceeded you, I’m afraid.”

Giggling, she took a seat at the desk, and toyed with a Newton’s cradle. “It’s not my fault people find me annoying.” Her fiddling became absent-minded. “Volskaya still wants me dead, you know. With her opinion the way it is, I’m surprised I was brought back.”

“You have good friends,” Angela murmured. “Zarya asked about you last time we exchanged intelligence.”

Sombra frowned. “Zarya? She’s Volskaya’s lap-dog.”

“Not so much anymore. When you last met, your views made a permanent impression. She’s glad you’re with us.” Angela paused before adding “Amélie’s been asking for you too.” At this, the signature smirk vanished, instead replaced by something softer. There was fear there too.

“Is she still…” Her unspoken words lingered. _Is she still under their control?_ That was a question Angela couldn’t answer yet.

“All the signs are pointing in the right direction. I do think that a familiar face might help speed things up though.” Sombra’s eyes were still trained on the Newton’s cradle, rocking backwards and forwards.

After a moment, she replied. “I’ll visit her soon. But I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Angela smiled supportively. Sombra nodded in agreement, still focused on the swinging metal.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the clacking of the desk toy. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but after a while, it faded into the background, lulling Angela into a trance of sorts.

Eventually, she sighed. “We’d better get started with your exam. I have a ten thirty that’s going to do my head in.”

Sombra relaxed back in her chair, and Angela set up the sphygmomanometer to measure her blood pressure. “Let me guess, one of the desk agents has a boo-boo?”

She had to laugh at that. “Close. Very close.” An IT worker with a sprained wrist.

“Aw poor baby,” Sombra cooed as she slipped the cuff onto her arm. “It does make you wonder why your healthcare extends to them. You’re too busy fixing life-threatening injuries and researching to look at things a nurse could treat.”

“I know.” And she did. She really did. “I asked corporate about it, but never got a reply.”

Sombra scowled. “Rude.”

Slowly, the cuff began to inflate. Angela took the readings, scribbling them down messily. “Normal so far.”

“Winston thinks I’m ready to go back into active duty. Once I have your signoff, I’m an official agent of Overwatch again.” She smirked. “Me, official. That’s a new one.” Removing the cuff from her arm, Angela reached for her cup, assuming the beverage would be cool enough now. She sipped it, then stopped. It was strong, black with no sugar. Sombra hadn’t brought any sachets as a precaution. That surprised her. “What?”

“How did you know how I take my coffee?”

Sombra’s grin grew. “You’d be surprised what’s in your official file. How you take your coffee is the least interesting thing I found.”

Angela’s eyes widened. “You’ve. Been in my file.”

“Yup.” Sombra sighed dramatically. “It wasn’t even hard. I’ve spent more time hacking some people’s personal systems that your military grade defences. Explains why they wanted me back.”

She was stunned, although the more she thought about it, the less strange it seemed. After Talon was destroyed, Overwatch brought her back to improve their cybersecurity, amongst other things. Angela was only privy to her public role, but knew there was something else going on. It made perfect sense she was testing the capabilities of their current system.

But even so…

“I don’t suppose there was any particular reason you chose my file?” Angela asked tentatively. She was more than a little suspicious.

“You’re under high security, _chula_ ,” she grinned. “I’ve already seen Jack’s – not pretty stuff by the way – and I can’t really hack my employer. Winston might think it rude.” The doctor huffed a laugh. _And it’s not to hack mine?_ Sombra carried on regardless. “But you, on the other hand…” She let out a low whistle. “Your tech is such a big secret, difficult to get clearance for, and very need-to-know. Plus, I was curious.”

Angela relaxed a little. _Just innocent probing. Nothing more._

“But I must say doc, certain aspects of your personal life were much more interesting than expected.”

She blanched. “W-what do you mean?” Although Angela knew exactly what she’d found. And this was not a conversation she’d ever wanted to have again.

“Moira O’Deorain.” Her smirk grew wider. “I didn’t know you two-,”

“It was a long time ago,” Angela bit out, her pleasant mood from earlier gone. “And I presume you know exactly what happened to that.”

Sombra pulled a purple display out of thin air, frowning. She tapped a couple of times, then sighed. “Official declaration of conflict of interest. Non-reciprocated.”

“She joined Talon. I had to disclose because I couldn’t fight her,” she ground out, eyes fixed squarely on the floor. “I was withdrawn from field activities for months. We were lucky Ana came back, and Lucio joined not long after. The agents were safe, and I had time to work on Valkyrie.” _But I had to deal with the fact that she strung me along for months. Just to steal from us all._

A hand touched her shoulder. Angela flinched hard, but Sombra rubbed a soothing circle into her back, helping her relax a little. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said gently. “I’m not here to exploit you. I know better than most people what she’s like. I worked under her for long enough to understand.”

A weak smile crossed her features. “It’s not exactly a secret. There was a lot of talk when I was withdrawn from the field. It trickled down from somewhere, and pretty much everyone knows.” Sombra hummed in sympathy. “For some reason, I didn’t think it would still be on there. Not since she was brought in.”

“I guess they wanted to be sure. It’s one of the less strange bits of info though.” The doctor perked up at this. “Your entire file is cluttered with irrelevant information.” She scrolled, swiping her fingernails down the screen with elegant precision. “I’ll have to bring this up with Winston. Nothing’s organised.”

“Athena fills the files with personal observations in case one of us is compromised.” Sombra looked inquisitive, and Angela remembered the coffee. “Like this. It’s not common knowledge how I take my coffee, but if there was any suspicion I was being impersonated, it would be an easy question that wouldn’t have been thought of by the perpetrator.”

“Good system, although a little organisation wouldn’t hurt.” She paused. “Something on your mind, doc?”

Angela hesitated, torn. “Just out of curiosity, what else does it say about me? I’ve never seen it for security reasons, but if you’re going to reorganise, it will all be changed anyway.”

Sombra’s eyes flashed as she laughed. “Oooh the good doctor breaking the rules? Not so much of an angel now, are you?”

She cringed at the mention of angels. “Never mind. Let’s just finish your exam, shall we?” The hacker cackled.

“ _Lo siento_ Angela, I was kidding. It’s your file, you should at least have an inkling as to what’s in it.” Without hesitation, she began to scroll once more. “I didn’t get to the end of it before, there’s quite a lot.”

She kept looking for a while until something obviously piqued her interest. “Why doctor, I didn’t know you liked donkeys.”

Angela’s earlier gloom from discussing Moira began to lift, and she smiled. “I didn’t know they knew! I actually-,”

“- Have adopted five of them this year alone. They all live at Happy Meadows sanctuary outside London. Half an hour’s drive from your house, and you visit twice a month.”

“Well that’s… detailed.” Angela held back giggles. “I honestly don’t know how they found that out!”

“Your bank account,” Sombra said offhand, still swiping through. At least that made sense. She was slightly less disturbed that Overwatch had access to her finances than was necessary. At least their knowledge of the donkeys’ existence wasn’t too intrusive on her personal life.

“There’s also an entire sub-category on which shoes you wear with certain trousers and skirts.”

That surprised her. “I own five pairs of near identical black flats, and one pair of heels.”

“Apparently you must be subconsciously picking certain ones to go with each outfit. There are photos detailing the scuff marks.” Sombra chuckled, showing her the high definition pictures. “So that’s where the budget goes. Candid shots of your feet.”

“I honestly can’t believe this,” Angela beamed ear to ear, finding the whole situation both unbelievably bizarre and hilarious at once. Although it was getting a little much. _I really need to finish the exam_. She reached for her coffee. “One more, then we’ll continue your tests?”

Sombra nodded in agreement as she scrolled voraciously, eyes focused on finding the juiciest bit of info. Suddenly her fingers stalled, and she smirked.

“Oh wow, doc. Now _this_ is something worth gossiping over.”

She frowned, tilting her head slightly. “Tell me,” she said, taking a draught of her drink.

“A very recent addition to your file. ‘Take note: shows a fondness for Field Agent #0221. Agent in question has declared a similar affection.’”

Angela spat out her coffee, shocking the grin off Sombra’s features. “What?!” she cried, reaching for a tissue. “Who?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Does it look like I know?”

Sombra eyed up the file again, frowning before replying. “I… can’t tell. Agent numbers are encrypted. I’d have to access Athena to find out, and that’s one AI I’m not messing with.” She glanced up at Angela. “It does say further down that the agent in question declared before anyone picked up on your behaviour…”

Shock was written all over Angela’s face. “A-an active field agent?” Sombra nodded, and her stomach twisted. _Someone I know, probably quite well. But who?_ “I have no idea who they mean. I’m not… with anyone right now.” She hadn’t been for quite some time in fact.

“ _Puta_ ,” Sombra took a deep breath, and smiled wryly. “I’m sorry I said. I assumed you knew. Forget I even mentioned it.”

_Like that’s going to happen_. “Right.”

The exam continued, Sombra passing every test with flying colours. Yet Angela could not concentrate. The procedures were so ingrained in her by now, she did them automatically. Her brain was elsewhere.

She knew she owed Agent #0221 their privacy, but something stirred in her chest. A yearning.

It had been a _really_ long time since anyone had expressed any deeper feelings than lust. And it wasn’t like relationships within Overwatch were forbidden, just monitored.

After everything was finished, she walked Sombra to the door.

“Everything’s in order,” Angela handed her a copy of the paperwork. “I’ve cleared you for active duty, and Winston should start to assign cases to you within the week.”

“Assuming your security doesn’t take me too long to fix. Which it won’t.”

Angela hesitated, biting her lip. “Sombra?” _God, I’m about to break every code of conduct in the book._

“Yes?” The look in her eyes spoke for her. She knew exactly what question was coming.

“…Would you be able to find out who Field Agent #0221 is when you’re fixing the system?”

Sombra frowned, considering her question. The pause was agonising. Finally, she replied “It… would be almost impossible without knowing the sequence.”

“But could _you_ do it?” Angela insisted.

Sombra’s signature smirk returned. “I always love a challenge. Give me a few days, _chula_.” And with a wave, she walked out, leaving the doctor to her thoughts.

*

Finally done with appointments for the day, Angela sat down with a sigh. Matt from IT had moaned that his left wrist pain should entitle him to paid leave, convinced it was tendonitis. On closer inspection, his arm was simply bruised, and she let him go with a pack of Ibuprofen. Reinhardt came in for some topical gel for back pain. At least he was always fun to have around. A couple of hastily scrawled forms later, and her day was finally slowing for lunch. She just had to type them up, and her hands could relax.

Her brain, however, could not have been more active. The identity of Agent #0221 was at the forefront of her thoughts. She couldn’t think of anyone she showed a particular fondness for. She made a point to treat all her co-workers equally in the clinic, no matter the issue. She frowned, pausing in her typing. Maybe they’d got it wrong. There was always the possibility that her normal manner had been taken as flirting. The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt having asked Sombra to investigate. It wouldn’t be fair to pry if it was truly one sided.

A light knock at the door made her jump and immediately all thoughts of Agent #0221 fled.

“Come in,” she called. It opened, and a large hand in fingerless gloves came into view. “Mako.” She smiled welcomingly but was confused nonetheless. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until Wednesday. Is something wrong?”

“Not me.” With one hand still on the handle, he reached back, and shoved someone inside. “Him,” he said, then pulled the door to, leaving Angela with her latest patient.

She was horrified at what she saw. Standing in her nice, clean office, dripping blood onto the carpet was none other than Junkrat.

“Jamison Fawkes, what have you done now?” She cried.

He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as she pushed him into the spare chair. “One of m’ grenades went off a bit early. I got lucky though.”

Taking a long look at his face, Angela scowled. It was covered in lacerations, bits of debris stuck here and there. He certainly looked like he’d been hit with a grenade. Slapping on a pair of gloves, she dug in her emergency kit for a pair of tweezers and began to remove the pieces into a biohazard bin. “You mean, you didn’t die? That’s pretty lucky.”

“Nah,” he pointed at his forehead. “Still got my eyebrows.”

She suppressed a giggle, trying to look stern. Junkrat was certainly one of her more… colourful patients. “You need to be more careful. What is this, the fifth time you’ve been in this month?” He nodded in agreement, causing her to scowl. “Don’t move.”

“Can’t help it doc,” he grinned. “S’ the ADHD, ain’t it.” Which she’d diagnosed him with on their first meeting. Ever since then, whenever his overexuberance landed him in the infirmary, he’d use it as an excuse for misbehaving. Although by now she was so used to his erratic behaviour that she’d know something was up if he sat still.

Junkrat and Roadhog had joined Overwatch for the final assault on Talon. Deciding a little more firepower wouldn’t hurt, Winston had reached out. A full pardon in exchange for their services. Junkrat had jumped at the opportunity. Roadhog was a little uncertain, but he joined anyway. And the firepower Winston had wanted? They’d brought it alright.

After the conflict ended, the invitation still stood. The two joined officially, and from that point on, not a week had passed without someone being sent to Angela after training with Junkrat. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was him.

“Ouch, careful,” he winced, but the shit eating grin still remained. She’d pulled a little roughly on a piece of shrapnel above his left eye.

“Sorry,” Angela murmured, removing the last fragment. She put down the tweezers and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. After cleaning his forehead thoroughly (amidst hisses of pain as the chemicals stung his cuts) she noticed that his wounds were mostly superficial and wouldn’t need dressing.

“I think we’re almost done here,” She smiled, binning the used wipe, along with her gloves. “No stitches required. Head injuries bleed a lot, even if they’re only small.”

Junkrat looked a little relieved. “Good. Don’t think I could deal with any needles near my eyes today.”

She handed him a clean pad of gauze. “Put pressure on it. Stay out of training for the rest of the day, and if you feel dizzy or anything else changes, come straight back.”

Rising from his chair, he gave her a mock salute. “Will do doc. Thanks for fixin’ me up.”

“It’s what I do.” He headed for the door. “And Junkrat?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to be careful next time, ok?” He laughed, a harsh sound but full of warmth, and with a final wave, left the office.

_Right on time for my lunch break_ , Angela thought, grabbing her purse from beneath the desk. Locking up, she headed down to the cafeteria, only two things on her mind. Coffee, and the faint hope that Jamison Fawkes could keep himself out of trouble for the rest of the day.

*


	2. A Nice Ass

Heels clacking against the linoleum had Sombra glancing up. She’d been sitting in the waiting room for a while now, eyes resting shut, just thinking. Coming here alone was probably a terrible decision, but somehow sharing this with anyone else felt wrong.

“She’s awake and stable,” the nurse smiled wryly. “You can go in, but if she dozes off you’ll have to leave.”

“Thanks,” Sombra stood up, stretching.

“Oh, and keep the lights off. She doesn’t like them.” Of course she didn’t. Widowmaker had always preferred darkness. It seemed Lacroix was the same.

_It’s about damn time you came_ , Sombra chided herself as she followed the nurse down a corridor. Lacroix had been properly awake for a few weeks, yet she hadn’t had the nerve to before. She’d been there the first time the doc had brought her to consciousness. The screams. She grimaced. They wouldn’t leave her head.

And now they’d locked her up in here. Amongst high profile convicts. The nurse stopped at a heavy door, pulling the bolt back with a crunch.

“We have to lock you in.” Sombra nodded. That was to be expected, even if Lacroix was truly on the mend. Motioning to the camera above the door she continued. “We’ll be watching. She’s not had an episode in a while, but we don’t take chances here.”

With that, she pushed the door open, and Sombra stepped into the darkness.

The room was almost pitch black, but Sombra could see the woman on the bed clearly. The first thing she noticed was that the blue tint she’d come to associate with the sniper was gone, pale, natural skin replacing it. Her hair was a mess, blue strands cascading over her face. They’d dressed her in pyjamas, a silk pair that looked as if they could have been Widowmaker’s own. Angela had probably picked them out, carefully choosing something that would make her feel comfortable. Her eyes pricked painfully in response.

At the sound of the bolt on the door slamming home, Lacroix’s gaze snapped up. Those shocking irises did not hold the anger they had months prior. _She’s not gonna be the same._ She wouldn’t be. The woman had only known Widowmaker under a state of heavy mind control. She’d never met Amélie Lacroix.

“S-Sombra?” The familiar voice cracked and wavered. Sombra resisted the urge to run to her side. A raw feeling in her chest was pulling her, telling her she needed to comfort Lacroix, apologise for everything.

But she stood, rooted to the spot.

“Hey,” She replied. The room fell into uncomfortable silence. Lacroix resumed staring at her lap.

There was something in the way she stared, some immense sadness that filled the air, choking her. It was crushing.

Then Lacroix turned, tears spilling from her eyes and onto the pyjamas. “I’m glad you’re here.”

That was enough for her. Against her better judgement Sombra crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the assassin into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m sorry they hurt you. I’m sorry we took so long to help.” And oh God, had she wanted to. It had been near impossible to watch Lacroix’s progression, the wordless subservience to _the cause_. To hear the crack of her rifle and know another soul’s weight lay on an innocent woman. To know what happened to Gérard. “I’m just so sorry it had to be you.”

Her last word’s end plunged the room back into quiet, deafening and oppressive. Sombra was about to let go and pull back, when she felt a weak hand on her shoulder.

“I know,” Lacroix whispered. “But you never gave up on me. The doctor, Mercy, she told me what you did.”

Tears started falling down Sombra’s cheeks. “I wish I could have done more.”

“More?” Lacroix’s chest heaved as she exhaled a croaky laugh. The sound was dry, as if she hadn’t used it in a while. _I guess she hasn’t had cause to_. “A lot less people are dead because of you. I would be one of them.”

Sombra pulled back, mouth turned in a sad half-smile. “I wasn’t gonna let that happen _araña_.”

Reaching out, Lacroix brushed away one of her tears. “I know.” It was such an intimate gesture, but so natural. It made Sombra want to start sobbing all over again. Instead, she sucked in a breath of air, and pulled the bedside chair over to sit in. The grating screech it made against the floor made Lacroix wince and scowl. “But that hasn’t changed how much of an annoyance you are.”

Sombra’s heart swelled, the insult almost heavenly to her ears. “But you love how irritating I am.” Lacroix folded her arms over her chest and tried to look stoic, although the corner of her mouth was twitching.

“I see you haven’t changed at all,” she murmured.

Sombra didn’t know how to reply. It was far too soon to tell her how different she was, minus the brainwashing. It was far too soon to say how beautifully her hair contrasted against her newly pale skin. It was far too soon to ask if Lacroix remembered what she’d whispered into her ear right before Ana darted her.

Because Sombra did. She remembered those amber eyes flashing, first in disbelief, then in anger when she realised it was a distraction. She remembered the words leaving her own lips, and the emptiness they left behind.

_I love you._

They’d shocked even Sombra. It was a spur of the moment thing, and in the aftermath she was left wondering if she’d even meant them. Whether her attraction to Widowmaker was purely physical. But then she’d remember all the nights when just enough of Lacroix had risen to the surface. The way they’d talked.

_Puta._ _I’m not gonna think about this now._ There would be time to talk later. Just getting Lacroix well was enough for today.

So Sombra swallowed the rising tide of emotion, and did the only thing that seemed appropriate.

“Boop!”

“SOMBRA!”

*

Tapping her fingers against the side of her mug as she slowly filled it, Angela debated whether or not it was socially acceptable to take the whole coffeepot back to her workstation. It was almost the end of her day, and only the truly desperate were drinking it at this time. Meaning her, McCree and Torbjörn. McCree was usually home by now, and she hadn’t seen the engineer all day. _Maybe he’s on a mission. Either way, I don’t think anyone would mind if I just-_

“Angela!”

_Speak of the devil._ She put the pot down and turned, internally cursing Torbjörn’s sudden appearance. Not that those frustrations would ever be voiced. He was, after all, one of her oldest friends.

“Torbjörn,” she smiled. He was grinning widely as he plonked down a chipped mug and began to pour coffee in. “How are you?”

“Better now I’m seein’ you. I’d heard some talk you’d been here all night and wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m fine, just watching over Amélie. She’s showing some real progress finally.” Obviously, he knew . She wondered who’d told him.

“That one’s been giving you trouble. I’m glad she’s finally on the mend.” He put the pot down, and rotated the mug to the least chipped side, taking a swig.

“Actually, Karen paged me not that long ago to say she’d had a visitor. I think we should see things speed up nicely now.” Which had both surprised and warmed her. Sombra hadn’t needed her help after all. She’d just needed a little shove.

“That Sombra was pretty close to her, huh?” He started to move towards the cafeteria door and she followed, keeping the relaxed pace they’d walked hundreds of times before. “It’s a good thing she’s here.”

Angela hummed in agreement, glancing down the corridor ahead of them. Further along, the hallway branched into two, engineering on the left, and straight on to her clinic. Windows lined both the inner walls, looking out onto the training arena. Just thinking where they were passing made her remember.

“I suppose Junkrat has been around the workshop all day. Has he been alright?”

Torbjörn’s brow crinkled. “He was in for maybe an hour earlier. Looked over those grenades of his a bit. I asked him why, he said some of the timers were faulty. Disappeared after that. What’s wrong with him?”

“One blew up in his face earlier. I presume he went home early. I told him to come back if…” She jerked to a stop. The arena windows had just come into view, a team using the final group practice slot of the day. She was vaguely aware of Torbjörn chuckling behind her, but it really didn’t matter right now. Her gaze was fixed on a certain someone doing what she had explicitly told him _not_ to.

“Damn that man,” she cursed under her breath, striding up to the window to glare at Junkrat. He was grinning maniacally, throwing mines with reckless abandon. She glanced at his forehead, exhaling in relief when she saw no blood, just faint red lines. “I told him not to go back in there today.”

“You of all people should know how he responds to just sitting around.” Torbjörn joined her at the window. “He’s not doing himself any harm by the looks of things, and I’ll bet his friend’s looking out for him.” At those words, Roadhog lumbered into view, taking his place next to Junkrat, just as the practice bots unleashed a stream of projectiles their way. Angela tensed, expecting to see the bullets to hit their mark. Instead, Roadhog took one large step in front of the smaller man, shielding him from harm.

“See?” Torbjörn smiled. “He’s fine.”

“That’s not the point,” Angela scowled, but she felt the tension ebb. “He shouldn’t be in there at all.”

“Are you going to tell him that?” _Yes, I most certainly am_ , she thought, but said nothing. “Anyway, I need to get movin’. Don’t stay too late tonight.”

“I wasn’t-,” the look on Torbjörn face stopped her. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He waved goodbye, and headed back to his office, leaving Angela to watch Junkrat alone.

It was odd to watch him in action. She’d barely seen him in the field before, mostly because her job kept her at the back, looking after the wounded. He was always right at the front, in the middle of his own deadly rain of fire. But as she watched him bounce grenades into the bots she knew that wasn’t all the man could do. His accuracy was remarkable, alternating between gently arcing the projectiles and letting them ricochet off the walls, the ceiling, the floor… every shot hit its mark. And despite his odd prosthetics, his movements appeared unhindered. It wasn’t fluid, but every time he lurched, it seemed to be in the direction he was headed.

At that moment, a projectile appeared to come a little too close for comfort, and he launched himself backwards, sneering slightly. Angela imagined him yelling, “Is that the best ya can do?” Now that all that stood between them was the glass, and the arena’s safety barrier it felt even more odd to be watching him fight so close.

She was about to turn and leave, but something caught her eye. Something she definitely hadn’t been expecting. _Oh goodness_. He’d changed out of his blood-covered clothes from earlier, and was now wearing his Overwatch sweatpants and hoodie, the pair every agent owned. And the material clung to his rear in an extremely pleasing manner. Angela gulped. His usual attire was relatively baggy and casual, and didn’t really do him any favours in that department. But now she’d seen, she didn’t think she’d be able to forget.

_Jamison Fawkes has an incredible ass._

Just as those words formed in her head, he turned around, as if aware that someone was watching him. Her eyes met his, and she could see that he knew where she’d been looking. Eyebrow raised, he held her gaze for a moment. Then, face splitting into a self-satisfied smirk, he winked.

Heat exploded over Angela’s face, and she quickly moved away from the window, half running all the way back to her office. She could almost hear his harsh laugh ringing in her ears. Somehow, she managed to get the keys into the door, and shut it behind herself. Sinking onto the floor, the true embarrassment of the situation began to set in.

“Oh God,” she groaned, knowing her face was probably fire truck red. _Why did he have to turn around just then?_

Whatever she did, she couldn’t change the fact that he’d caught her staring. Worse still, she didn’t know if she wanted to.

*

Somehow, she’d managed to get home. Angela’s first thought on entering was to head for the kitchen, find the biggest glass she could, and pour herself some wine. Walking into her living room, she collapsed onto the sofa, and turned on the TV. She drank as she surfed through channels, eventually settling on a cooking programme. Not that she was interested, she just needed some background noise.

_What even happened today?_ It felt like the day had been one shock after another; mostly due to Junkrat’s antics. And her own, she guessed. He didn’t _make_ her stare at his ass. But he had changed into those damn sweatpants. Angela groaned. And here she was, trying to blame her wandering eyes on someone else. No, that was all her.

And the catalyst had been Agent #0221. In her chaotic, sleep-deprived state, she’d almost forgotten.

But now, she had time to think.

Taking another large sip of the wine, Angela began to wonder. The file had been carefully blank over gender, and that left a large pool of agents she worked with regularly. Reinhardt and Ana were out. Torbjörn was married. She stifled a giggle at the thought of the Swede turning up to her office with flowers. He was the closest thing to a father she’d had since… well. The less said on that, the better really.

Jack was out too, he still carried a torch for someone else. Whether that someone else would ever return was up for debate though. She sighed. Poor Jack.

_No more thinking about the dead and gone, Angela._ She took another sip, turning her attention to the younger members. Lena was engaged, obviously. She was to be maid of honour at the wedding, and looking forward to it more with every passing day. Fareeha was a possibility, but somehow Angela didn’t think she felt that way. They’d spent so much time together that if there had been some chemistry, she’d have noticed it long ago.

Lucio was smitten with Hana, and she him, so those two were out. Anyone with a brain could see that. McCree was… McCree. She was positive he had some girlfriend somewhere. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to be single.

And that left Roadhog, Genji… and Junkrat. The last name’s mere passage across her mind had her reaching for the wine again. It was one thing speculating on people she knew it wasn’t, but somehow Angela felt as if too much pondering on these last names would give her an answer. One she was afraid of getting. As a doctor she had to be right, first time. That sentiment crossed over into her personal life, and it felt wrong to outright guess any one person was Agent #0221 without concrete proof. She’d wait until Sombra came back with a name.

Looking down at her glass, Angela cursed. It was nearly empty. She heaved herself off the sofa, and returned to the kitchen, this time bringing the bottle with her. The next day she had off, after all.

Several large glasses later, Angela stumbled up the stairs to bed. She wasn’t drunk per se, extremely tipsy, but not drunk. Fully clothed, she collapsed on top of the duvet, pulling one of her pillows into her arms. Sighing in contentment, she began to drift off, but not before she started to imagine Agent #0221 with blonde hair. _And a nice ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Mercy likes more asses than just donkeys, that's for sure ;P  
> But in all seriousness, thank you so much for the feedback! It kept me going writing this one *^^*


	3. An Eye for An Eye

Monday brought a sharp chill to the London air. It wasn’t uncommon that time of year, but the frostiness hanging over the city meant wrapping up warm was a necessity. Angela was wearing three layers and a coat when she left home that morning, feeling bulky and irritable. Thankfully the heating at HQ meant the top two layers were peeled off the moment her office door swung shut.

She’d woken up late on Sunday, and had chosen to relax for the most part, glancing over a few files when her thoughts got too loud. The duty doctor rang about lunchtime to say Sombra had been by again. Amélie seemed in better spirits, and according to the report, completely lucid. Making a few alterations to Amélie’s medication, reducing her sedation had been her first task today. If she continued without issue, the doctor saw no harm in a Friday discharge.

Angela had almost cried out in relief seeing her schedule so empty for once. A free morning, and only Amélie’s check-up after lunch. So long as nobody dropped in unannounced, it would be a pretty easy day.

Half an hour later, and neck-deep in paperwork she took that statement back. Apparently before reducing the dose, Jack wanted to have a full report. She’d promised to have it filled out before noon, but her stomach was starting to have different ideas.

And that’s when the knock came. The sound of metal against wood; two hard raps, then one much softer. It was distinctive, one she’d come to learn meant get out the first aid kit.

Junkrat was here.

She wished the paperwork would pile a little higher, just enough to cover the blush that was forming on her cheeks right now. Over the weekend, Angela had tried her damned hardest to ignore the ass incident. She’d hoped for a little more time to think rationally about it before seeing him. _No chance of that happening now though._

Clearing her throat, she called out “Come in,” and tried to look professional. Sure enough, it was him. The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a hoodie today, unsure as to whether it relieved or disappointed her, Angela glanced up at him. “Junkrat, don’t tell me you’re injured _again_?”

To his credit, he looked a little embarrassed. “Nah, I’m good. I just thought… well, Roadie actually…” He seemed to be struggling with what to say next. She waited, until finally, he blurted out “sorry for yesterday. Going back to the practice range I mean. And wasting your time with something I could have treated m’self.”

Angela was more than a little stunned. Then she smiled. “An apology, Jamison? That’s a new one.”

“Roadie told me it was a bit rude, after you sorted my face and everything.” He looked so downcast, she felt terrible having ever considered lecturing him on the matter.

“I was just worried about you, that’s all,” she said gently. “I didn’t want anything worse to happen because of your injuries.”

Her words had an immediate positive effect on him. Face lighting up, he sighed in relief. “Phew! I thought you were really gonna bend my ear about that one.” The suddenly, he frowned. “Damn, shoulda brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” She really wasn’t sure where he was going with this one.

“A gift, I dunno. Maybe flowers. Just to say I’m gonna try and be more careful from now on, because I reckon I’ve been wasting your time a bit recently.”

Her heart warmed at his words. “Oh,” she breathed. “That’s remarkably thoughtful of you.” More thoughtful than she anticipated. “It’s fine though. You really don’t-,”

A loud gurgle cut her off. Her stomach didn’t care one bit for Junkrat’s somewhat softer side, and was demanding to be fed. She bit her lip, embarrassed.

“Ah, sorry about that. I haven’t eaten yet,” she murmured, which wasn’t entirely true. Leaving the house, Angela had grabbed an apple from her fruit bowl. It was usually enough to keep her going until lunch, but today’s mental strain had already taken its toll.

She glanced up at Junkrat, hoping he wasn’t the type of man to cringe at the noise. His eyes were slightly narrowed, as if he were thinking. Hard. Suddenly, his face split into a grin.

“Speakin’ of which, I haven’t either. Instead of flowers, how about breakfast? My treat.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the door open, holding it for her. He was obviously enthusiastic, and despite her unwillingness to accept a gift for nothing, Angela knew she had to eat. There was no point in refusing his kind offer, especially when she understood just how stubborn the man was.

“If you’re sure,” she smiled. Junkrat nodded.

“Course I am. After you, Mercy.” Grabbing her empty mug and purse, she left and waited for him to follow, locking the door behind.

As they walked down the corridor to the cafeteria, Angela couldn’t help but feel surprised at the sudden turn of events the day had taken. _From paperwork to this, whatever ‘this’ is_. It was very mature of Junkrat to apologise she thought, and there were worse people to have breakfast with. He was a little subdued today, still his usual bouncy self, but restrained. As they passed the windows to the training area, Angela noted he hadn’t mentioned yesterday’s humiliation. Whether it was an act of kindness or due to his own embarrassment, she was more than grateful for its absence from conversation.

Not that there was any right now.

She cleared her throat. “How has your day been so far?”

“Eh, not bad I s’pose. Haven’t been here long, but had a meeting with Winston first thing. One of me old teammates is comin’ over for a bit. He wants me to keep ‘em company, introduce the team an’ such.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Angela hadn’t heard anything about an agent transfer, and was curious. “Who is it?”

“Mei-Ling Zhou.” He frowned. “Dunno how to pronounce her last name, just called her Mei in the field.”

She definitely recognised that name. “Goodness! I didn’t know you knew her! She’s rather famous, that endothermic blaster she made is talk of legend.” Angela sighed. “Although it’s not my field I’ve always wanted to meet her and discuss her accomplishments.”

“Well that’s great!” Junkrat’s face lit up. “Mei saved me an’ Roadie’s hides a fair few times, she’s a real beast. I suppose I could introduce you.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled, genuinely touched by his offer. They’d reached the cafeteria, and he held the door open again, letting her enter first.

There was a decent amount of food to choose from, and Junkrat wasted no time grabbing a plate of pancakes with a couple of sachets of syrup. Angela almost laughed at his enthusiasm as she put a plate of scrambled eggs and an apple onto her tray. At the till, she tried to get out her card, but he was faster, zapping his over the receiver twice before she’d even had time to blink.

“Tryin’ to refuse my hospitality, are ya?” he winked, and she felt a little burst of heat on her face, memories of Saturday threatening to intrude. Somehow the cheekiness suited him down to the bone.

“I really wouldn’t have minded-,” she began to say, before he cut her off.

“Nonsense! Now go sit down, I’ll get your coffee.” It was no surprise he knew what she was planning on having in that cup. Angela was pretty reliant on the stuff, and her visits to refill were many. Thankfully, coffee from the cafeteria pot was free if you brought a cup. Most people headed a fair way into town to pick up a latte before their day started, but she’d never cared for anything that fancy.

She handed him her mug. “I take it-,”

“Black with no sugar.” Grinning, he turned towards the pot.

_How does he- Sombra._ It had to be, although just the fact he’d remembered made her smile. But it did make her wonder what else the hacker had mentioned to him. Angela found a table, and sat down. She’d barely had time to get comfortable when Junkrat returned. He passed her cup back, then sat opposite, immediately ripping open the syrup sachets and liberally covering his pancakes. _He likes sweet things then, I take it?_

“You’ve met Sombra then?” She asked.

He shrugged, cutting a large wedge into his food. “The one with purple in her hair? I guess.”

A little confused, Angela almost asked what they’d discussed, but stopped herself, afraid of where this conversation was headed. Instead, she looked down at her food, and began to eat.

As far as cafeteria stuff went, it wasn’t bad, although the gusto with which Junkrat was eating seemed to tell another story. He finished long before her, turning his attention to a loose screw on his arm. She knew he was right-handed, and it certainly showed. The screw was tiny, and when he tried to tighten it, it would spin back, jiggling in place. It seemed like it would be irritating to fix even with someone’s dominant hand.

“Has that been bothering you for long?” Angela asked.

He shook his head. “Started playing up this morning. S’always this one. I usually get help sorting it, but I haven’t had time.”

She thought for a moment. “I’ve got a screwdriver in my office. Before you head up, I could tighten it if you wanted.”

He brightened up at this, stopping fiddling to look her in the eyes. “You’re a real lifesaver doc.”

“Angela.” Finishing her food, she neatly put her knife and fork together. “You’ve called me Mercy and doc the whole time we’ve known each other, but it’s Angela to my friends.”

Standing up, she turned to take her tray back, but stopped when he replied. “Angela, huh? Then in all sense of friendliness, you ought to have somethin’ better to call me than Junkrat.” He rose to follow her, and she laughed.

“I already know your name though!”

“Yeah, but when anyone says ‘Jamison’, all I can think is you tellin’ me off for getting injured.”

She flushed. “I seem to do that a lot, don’t I? I didn’t mean to come off too strict.”

Junkrat laughed, a wolfish grin lingering on his face. “Not that I mind _you_ straightening me out…” he muttered. Angela stiffened. _He didn’t really just say that, did he?_ Before she had time to react properly, he continued. “Although I guess Jamie would do. Unless you wanna keep saying my full name every time ya see me!”

“Alright then, Jamie it is.” _Unless I really do want to straighten him out._ She shook herself. _Where did that come from?!_

They headed back to her office in comfortable silence. It was nice seeing him outside their regular meetings, for one thing he wasn’t covered in blood this time. Jamie was surprisingly pleasant to be around.

Opening the door, she remembered the vast pile of paperwork that lay over her desk. Thankfully her miniature screwdriver set wasn’t under it. “I’ll just be a second,” she called back, placing her mug down on the table before beginning her quest.

The set was in the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, with all the other random items that had nowhere to go. She’d just slid it open, and bent down to search, when there was a sharp intake of breath from behind. Glancing back at him, Angela noticed Jamie’s face was very red.

“Are you alright?” she asked. He nodded, taking the vacant seat at her desk.

“Y-yeah! I just realised somethin’.” She frowned.

“What?”

He huffed a laugh. “I’ll tell you later.” She was more than curious at his words, but decided not to press further. He sounded flustered, and Angela resumed her searching, quickly finding what she was looking for. Coming back to the desk, she popped out the correct tool, and deftly tightened his screw.

“There,” she said softly. “If you get stuck again, just drop by. I’m more than happy to help with your prosthetics as well as your human limbs.

As he grinned, she noticed the redness had dissipated from most of his face, lingering only on his cheeks. His lightly freckled cheeks. _He’s surprisingly cute…_

“Thanks Angela,” Jamie smiled. It wasn’t his usual grin; there wasn’t an edge to it. Instead, his face was almost tender. Sweet.

She returned it. “No problem, Jamie.” As he stood up to leave, she went to return the screwdrivers to their drawer. Just as she opened it, he called out to her.

“Angela?” She turned slightly to look at him. The grin was back.

“Yes?”

“An eye for an eye.” And with that, Jamie left. He sounded like he’d been holding back a cackle the entire time, and no sooner had the door shut than she heard him let it out.

Angela was puzzled for a moment, before it hit her.

She’d been bent over the bottom drawer in such a manner that her skirt-clad rear would have been right in front of him.

And he’d been looking.

If the embarrassment she’d felt the day before had been bad, it was nothing compared to the wave of heat that passed over her now. Slamming the drawer shut, she paced to her desk and flopped into the chair.

“Damn that man.” But despite the crudeness of it all, Angela felt a smile creeping onto her face. Bright-red for the third time that day, and all because of _him_.

She wouldn’t mind catching him looking again.

*

“So, you like cats then?”

“Persians. Big, fluffy ones.” Sombra threw her head back and laughed. It was about four in the afternoon, and she was on top of the world. She’d come to see Lacroix again, and to her surprise, the lights were on. She’d showered, and was drying her long blue hair with a towel when Sombra came in. It was a massive relief to see her out of bed, but they’d sat in silence for a little while. Until Lacroix tried to brush her hair. It was still a tangled mess, and little progress was made. Sombra being Sombra had joked about showing her how it was done. Wordlessly, the brush was passed over, and she’d began to work out the knots. It had been slow and awkward at first, so she’d begun to ramble, filling the quiet. And now…

_Of course she’s a cat person_.

“I’m betting you’re one of those people who overfeed them. Gotta have the best, right?”

Lacroix grimaced. “Who do you take me for? When I was a little girl, Madeleine and Jean Baptiste were perfectly cared for.”

“By who? Although the names sound like something you’d come up with.” She almost choked with laughter at the glare sent in her direction.

“By _moi_. And those are normal names for cats. You must be a dog person.”

“Mostly.” Running the brush through the woman’s hair, she sighed. “I used to have one a long time ago.”

“What was its name?”

“Cielo,” Sombra murmured, a little saddened to remember. “She was this cute little chubby thing. I found her near a road, scared and cold. Pets weren’t allowed where I was, so I snuck her in the window.”

Lacroix chuckled. “That certainly sounds like you. Were you caught?”

Her movements stilled. Sombra leaned over to look her in the eyes, frowning. “You do remember who you’re talking to, right _araña_?”

“I’ll take that as no, then.” The brush began to move again.

“None of the staff knew until the other kids got attached. How could they throw out the one thing keeping us orphans happy? I miss that little fluffball.”

Before they could continue, a quiet but firm knock sounded. Lacroix answered. “Come in.” Sombra was frustrated someone had interrupted their conversation, but glad it had ended at that point. She didn’t really want to go into what had happened to her only childhood friend.

The door swung open, and Angela walked in, smiling widely. “Good afternoon Amélie. Sombra.”

Sombra nodded, but Lacroix smiled back. “ _Bonjour_ Mercy. The usual today?”

“Actually, I have good news.” She leafed through the stack of papers in her arms, and pulled out a sheet with a heavy stamp across the centre. “We’ve reviewed your progress, and have decided to reduce your sedatives. If all goes well, your discharge papers can be signed Friday.”

Joy washed over Sombra. She was so proud. Proud of Lacroix for getting through this, and proud of the medical team’s achievements in such a short time.

That pride didn’t last for very long though.

“ _Merde_ ,” Lacroix practically spat. “I take it I have to stay in London?”

“Yes.” The doctor looked confused. “Is there something wrong?”

She looked embarrassed. “I… don’t have anywhere to stay here. And as for my monetary situation…”

It was a split-second decision. Sombra didn’t really think it through.

“Stay with me.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at other people's works on here, I couldn't come up for a better name for Junkrat than Jamie. It suits him sooo well. And now we have witnessed the dawn of Thirsty Mercy, there's no going back from here! *^^*


	4. Guilty as Charged

Thankfully, Monday’s cold weather hadn’t lingered, and the sun had grown stronger each day. As had Amélie. She’d begun to walk, first just pacing around her room, but after Angela exchanged words with the duty doctor, she was allowed to explore the corridors of HQ itself. Never alone, but then again, Sombra had barely left her side, choosing to work from wherever Lacroix wanted.

It was nice, Angela thought as she waited for an endless sheaf of papers to print. They’d both worked hard this week, and now all that remained was to get the discharge documents to Winston. He’d sign off, and that would be Amélie out, and a massive workload off her plate.

Unfortunately, her office had been remarkably Junkrat-free recently. After their last meeting, her brain had been swimming with images of him. The way he’d winked, the dirty grin he’d aimed at her when she’d said ‘Jamison’. _Oh God_. And the way he’d been so flustered when she’d inadvertently bent over. Angela wasn’t _that_ dense. It had been more than simply apologising.

She’d begun to suspect her initial guess of Agent #0221’s identity was correct.

And then Jamie had vanished for three days. It wasn’t like she was concerned. Quite the opposite in fact. He had done as promised. No injuries. And of course, Angela knew Mei-Ling Zhou had been set to arrive. He probably hadn’t had time to stop by for socialising. It all made perfect sense.

So why was she this irritable? Shaking herself, Angela glanced down and noticed the printer had probably stopped churning out paper some time ago. Snatching up the pile, she scowled and headed back to her desk.

“I’m not upset,” she muttered, trying to put some conviction into the words. It wasn’t working.

_Had he just wanted to embarrass me back?_ Grabbing the stapler and punching it into the paper with much more force than necessary, she grabbed the stack, and slumped out.

On the way up to Winston’s office, she let herself mentally curse the whole situation. _I wouldn’t have thought about his damn ass so much if I hadn’t been worrying about Agent #0221!_ Although Angela knew that wasn’t true. The last few days had given her time to think. How, despite their medical nature, she’d grown attached to Jamie’s little visits. He’d been the perfect patient each time, sitting as still as he could, and trusting her to ‘fix him up’.

She was fond of him. And that was a big problem, being as the last time she’d been in a similar situation, it had almost killed her.

Being lead on was not something she appreciated.

_And now I’m angry. Great._

When the door opened, Winston almost recoiled at the look on her face. “A-ah, Angela. You’ve brought Lacroix’s files?” He was perched on a tire behind three massive computer screens, all dark.

She tried to soften her voice, but it came out harsh and brittle anyway. “Yes.”

“Hahaha…” he laughed awkwardly, bending down to squiggle a signature roughly on the page. “It should be in the system by four. Athena is offline for final adjustments to security.”

“Oh.” She took the papers back, a little surprised. “Sombra was quick.”

“Remarkably,” he replied, pushing his glasses up. “Are you alright Angela?”

_No, I am not_ , she mentally snarled. It was almost over. There would be a name on her desk later today, and she was _not_ ready. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Winston smiled understandingly. “At least with Lacroix gone, you don’t have to come in tomorrow.”

That was a relief. She could unwind with a bottle tonight. Or two, depending on whose name was on that file.

“Yes. I really should be going, I have to prepare Amélie’s medication for the week.” The gorilla looked sympathetic.

“Take care Angela.”

Leaving, the doctor wanted to do nothing more than storm back to her office and hide from everyone. But she walked unhurriedly, taking her time to calm down. Angela understood that if this were normal, if _she_ were normal, walking away would be easy. But whatever happened, her past would follow. Moira would keep hurting her, even if she wasn’t…

Angela exhaled sharply, and ran a hand down her face. She’d arrived back, and pushed the door open, slamming it behind herself. Now alone, she shut her eyes, and leant back. She rarely swore, only when something warranted such an expression.

Now seemed like an appropriate time.

“Fuck,” she hissed loudly.

“Didn’t think you swore, Angela,” said a familiar voice.

Her eyes snapped open, and sure enough, in the corner of the room, was Jamie. He lounged on the exam table, one hand tucked behind his head, and the other drumming a steady pattern into the cushion.

“How the hell did you get in?” She asked, realising as soon as the words left her mouth. “I didn’t lock the door, did I?” Angela had been too wrapped up in her own misery to think of the keys, lying right next to the stapler. And now he was here.

“Nope,” Jamie shook his head, grinning. “Should’a waited outside, but then I wouldn’t have heard your lovely voice say such a bad word.”

Just like that, Angela began to feel the rage dissipate. “I don’t often. Just when there’s a lot on my plate.” She crossed to the desk, collapsing into her chair. Of course, that was when she noticed the cup.

“I reckon you’ve been too tired lately,” he said softly, swinging round to sit up. “You’re always one of the last to leave, an’ working nights more than most. I see why you drink so much of the stuff.”

“You really didn’t-,” he cut her off before anything else could come out.

“Yes, I did. S’ another apology.”

She was confused. “Did Mako not think breakfast was enough?”

“Not him. Me this time.” He scratched his head, an unconscious gesture. _He’s… nervous?_ “I know your friends are on deployment. S’ not fun, bein’ alone. I kinda wanted… to keep you company, make sure ya weren’t lonely like.” He paused, making eye contact briefly before breaking it to stare at the wall. “I haven’t been around this week, an’ you’ve been stressed. So, I’m sorry about that.”

_Oh my God_. If Angela hadn’t been sitting already, his words would have floored her. Flirting was one thing, but he’d made quite clear that he was concerned about her wellbeing. Her anger from earlier had made no sense, and she felt guilty even thinking about it. Jamie actually cared.

Seeing her stunned expression, he stood up awkwardly. “I can go if you want me to.”

“No!” she said, a little too loud and he chuckled, perching back on the edge of the table.

“Good. Cause I don’t wanna.” He gestured at the coffee. “You’d better drink it. S’ getting cold.”

Angela did just that, lifting it to her lips, and taking a sip. It was the perfect temperature. Black, no sugar. Now she knew what else he’d noticed, she was starting to doubt Sombra had told him her preference.

It was a bewildering notion.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Angela drinking, and Jamie messing with the paper lining of the table.

Eventually, she broke the quiet. “Thank you for this. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

He grinned. “Then don’t. Just accept stuff when it’s handed to ya, s’ what I always do.”

“There’s no point refusing anything you want to give me, is there?” she laughed, and his smile got a little darker.

“Christ Angela, if you say so.” Jamie waggled his eyebrows, and she gasped. This was definitely flirting. And she knew just how to reciprocate.

“You have a filthy mind, Jamison Fawkes.” His grin grew, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room.

“Guilty as charged,” he cackled. She joined in, giggling slightly at his crassness. It felt good to laugh, the tension of the last week rapidly draining. She’d needed this.

After a while, Jamie hopped up and grimaced. “I gotta get back to engineering. You probably have a fair bit to do too, yeah?”

She nodded. “It was lovely of you to pop by though.”

“I’ll be doing that a bit more often,” he replied, and Angela smiled in agreement. He turned to leave, but seemed to remember something. “I dunno if you’d be interested, but a few of us are gonna hit the King’s Head later, and you’re welcome to join. Mei’s coming, I know you wanted to meet her.”

There was no question. “I’d love to.” She hadn’t had a chance to go out with a group for a while, and seeing Jamie outside work would be nice.

“Alright! We’ll be going over about six, so just show up when you want to,” He was ecstatic, and Angela bit her lip to hide her own amusement. Waving goodbye, he left.

She sighed contentedly. It seemed things were finally going her way.

*

It was almost time for her to leave when someone knocked on the door. Angela called out for them to enter, and the it swung open to reveal the person she’d been awaiting.

“Sombra,” she was grinning widely, and moved out the way to reveal Amélie standing behind her. “And Amélie too.” She was dressed in a tan coat that reached her calves, and black leggings. Angela knew the clothes hadn’t been provided by the medical staff, the coat looking far too expensive. It seemed Sombra was intent on keeping her warm and comfortable. That was good.

“We’re here for my medication,” Amélie said softly. She was smiling too. _Sombra’s offer must have made her happier to leave._

“Of course, just give me one second,” she said, grabbing her purse. She planned to lock up here, sort the pills, then be on her way immediately. Before too long, they were walking out, down the corridor to the medical bay. “The pharmacist should have got them together, so this shouldn’t take long.”

“Good,” Sombra said, eyeing the tall woman beside her. “There’s a bit of organisation to do at mine, so we’ll try to get back quick so she doesn’t tire out.”

“I’m right here you know,” Amélie frowned. “And I’m not that fragile.”

“You’re right. Sorry _araña_.” Angela wondered if Sombra realised her accent thickened when she talked to her companion. She’d noticed earlier in the week, and thought it was because she was just that much more comfortable with the woman than anyone else.

Then she’d noticed the vast amount of time the two were spending together, the offer of her spare room, assuming it was purely because of their closeness in Talon. And now, looking at the way Sombra gazed at Amélie, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

_How did I not notice that before?_ Sombra was good. She’d played the concerned friend role to a T, but her eyes told a different story.

The woman was infatuated. Angela chuckled, earning herself a bemused glance from the Frenchwoman, and a glare from Sombra. No wonder she’d been so desperate to reverse the brainwashing; always hanging around the medical bay before they brought her round. _A familiar face_ , she’d originally thought. Obviously, it was more than that.

She should report this. She really should. But what kind of a person would Angela be to get in the way. Amélie wasn’t even an agent after all.

_Besides, talk about hypocritical._ That stung.

Arriving at the pharmacy, Angela knocked on the door and waited. The chemist was a small woman, harried and grey haired. She took one glance at Amélie, and nodded.

“There’s a fair bit for you, miss.” Stooping down, she grabbed a small basket and plonked it onto the table. “Right, I hope you’re listening. There’s your clozitrol, twice a day. Eat with it. Same with the dinitrazole…”

Her voice faded away as Angela began to think about the eventing ahead of her. It was going to be a welcome relief from her busy schedule, that was for sure. She’d probably only have one or two drinks, wanting to be relatively lucid talking to Mei. And Jamie. Especially Jamie. Plus, if all went well, there would be other opportunities to cut loose in the future.

Eventually, all the pills were accounted for, and the two adequately briefed on dosage. She’d walked them back through to the front of HQ when Sombra suddenly stopped.

“Can I have a moment with the doc before we go?” Amélie looked confused, but nodded. She tossed a pair of keys over. “Green car, furthest left on this row.”

After she’d left, Angela let out a low whistle. Sombra frowned.

“What?”

“Does she know?”

There was silence for a second, broken only by a quiet curse. “Nope. How did you figure it out?”

“The way you look at her. Like you’re scared she’ll break.”

“I am.” She turned, and the doctor saw genuine fear on her face. “Don’t say anything. Please.”

There was only one good answer. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m not here to exploit you either.” Sombra’s shoulders sagged, and Angela thought she saw the glimmer of a tear. It was gone quicker than it had appeared.

“Thank you. And I’ve got something for you.”

Angela’s tensed. She knew exactly what was coming. “The name?”

“…Yeah.” Sombra sighed and ran a hand over her hair. “I only got it this afternoon, real tricky stuff. It’s… not what we were expecting.”

She was puzzled. “Why?”

“I found his file had a little more information in it than yours. Mostly about the nature of this fondness.” She handed over a scrap of paper, a name scrawled heavily across the middle. Angela couldn’t believe it.

“What does this even mean?” She gaped.

“He said he felt like any parent would watching you on a battlefield. Can’t be around you in combat. I’ve got to get Amélie home, ok? Take it easy _chula_.” Angela was vaguely aware she’d nodded, but honestly, this was _not_ what she’d anticipated.

It didn’t mean she was wrong about Jamie liking her, but knowing the catalyst for realising her own affection had been so off… She had to laugh.

Agent #0221 was Torbjörn Lindholm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I never said it was a romantic fondness, did I :P also the sexy Junkrat pose had to make it's way in somewhere  
> Next chapter we'll see how Angela and Jamie get on at the pub after Sombra's revelations *^^*
> 
> p.s. sorry this chapter was a little shorter, a few external issues came up :P


	5. "I'd Like to See You Try."

Angela left her car in the Overwatch parking garage and headed for the pub. It was probably for the best, even if she only consumed a little alcohol there was no way she’d get behind the wheel after.

_Torbjörn_ … it made sense of course. He’d all but adopted her, bringing her to meet Ingrid and the kids, making sure she wasn’t lonely when she’d first arrived in London. That he’d declared conflict of interest meant that much more. He was protecting her still. Because of his thoughtful action, the chances of them fighting together were low, and if one of them were hurt…

_The other wouldn’t have the pain of seeing it_. Angela had never considered this as a possibility, but now she did, gratefulness threatened to overwhelm her. Seeing someone she cared that much for in the field would be distracting. Neither of them would concentrate on team efforts, and if someone was injured as a result… He’d done such a good thing, yet never mentioned it. As if her opinion of the man could go any higher.

_Still_ , she thought, rounding a corner. _It would have been nice to know Jamie’s intentions there and then_. She was pretty sure he was interested, and the thought thrilled. However, for all she knew, it might just be harmless flirting. Although he had been awfully concerned about her earlier.

Angela sighed. Why did she always have this nagging doubt that nothing was as it seemed? The constant urge to prove facts over idle speculation. It would be easy just to assume he liked her. To see where it took them.

But for now, the flirting would do. Knowing her, Jamie would have to be explicitly clear with the direction he wanted to go in before she was positive he liked her. But God she hoped something, _anything_ , would happen soon. Preferably tonight. Because Angela had to be _sure_.

The King’s Head was barely five minutes’ walk from HQ, and before long she could hear the sound of drunken revelry. She turned the last bend in the road, and there it was. Well, there McCree was. He was standing in front of the pub, bathed in it’s warm glow. Phone against his ear, he leant heavily on the brickwork. As she approached, Angela heard him slur “I love you, my little huckleberry,” into the receiver, and winced in response. He looked like he’d had a few too many already.

Giving him a little wave, she ducked inside just as whoever was on the other end let out a string of profanity, the tiny speaker’s sound too metallic for her to hear any distinguishing features.

It was relatively full inside, but still not as packed as a usual Friday night. Still, it took her a little time to get her bearings before spying a familiar blond head poking above the crowd. Jamie was standing by the bar, picking up a few drinks. It looked like he’d seen her too, as a wide grin split his face. He motioned over to a large table at the back, which was curiously empty, compared to the rest of the room. Angela pushed through, meeting him halfway.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Evenin’.” He’d done something to his hair. It no longer poked up at odd angles, and looked almost… fluffy? Whatever he’d done, it looked good.

As did everything else about him.

“Do you want a hand with that?” She looked at the beers he carried with concern.

“Are you kidding?” Smirking, Jamie grabbed all three of them with his human arm, and flexed the other. “I can carry a lot more n’ just these.” The glasses rattled ominously.

“I’ve no doubt you could, but I really don’t want beer in my shoes.”

“Ah. Right.” She carefully took a glass from him, and they started to walk.

“S’ just you, me n’ McCree for the time being. The rest are stopping by later.”

“Ah, I saw Jesse outside before I came in,” she said. “He was talking to someone on the phone.”

Jamie chuckled as they arrived at the table. “Yeah. He got here way before me, completely pissed by the time I showed up. Started starin’ at his phone, then disappeared. Glad he’s just out there. Don’t want his drink to go to waste.” He sat on the plush bench against the wall, and scooted over, making space for her. “Hope ya like beer, otherwise the one you’re holding is mine.”

She took the proffered place, and smiled. “Beer is fine. Thank you.” It wasn’t her drink of choice, but Angela had nothing against it.

“No problem.” Jamie took a drink from his own, then rapped his metal fingers against the table. She hadn’t expected to be alone with him tonight, and it was a nice surprise to have this moment, however brief it may be. “Sooo… good day?”

“Good enough.” _The second half, anyway._ But that, she’d keep to herself. “My main patient was discharged, so now I get my weekends completely free again.”

“Nice. S’ always good to have more time to relax. Especially when someone works as hard as you.” Brow furrowing a bit, he tilted his head at her. “I take it that was the blue sheila?”

“Yes.” It didn’t surprise her that he knew about Amélie.

“Must have been a tough one.” Angela hummed in response, sipping the beer. _You don’t know the half of it._

“How was your day?” she asked, an attempt to steer the conversation away from her work.

He relaxed, sitting back into the cushions. “Not bad either. The highlight was seein’ your good self o’ course.”

“Oh, you are such a flatterer!” Feeling a little brave, she mock punched his chest. His eyes lit up playfully, and that signature smirk unravelled across his face.

“And you’re the guardian angel in my poor, dark days. Oh, where would I be without your Mercy,” Jamie lamented, swooning at her.

Angela couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, and collapsed into a fit of giggles, shaking hard at his ridiculous expression. “Could… you… not?” she managed between gasps.

“Not what? Flatter you? Ha!” Her reaction appeared to be exactly what he’d been attempting to elicit. She patted her chest, and took a long gulp of her drink.

“I swear, I’ll get you back for that one,” she said with mock severity.

At this, his eyes narrowed, and he leant in slightly. “I’d like to see you try.”

It was a challenge, Angela knew. He was daring her to do something. Normally, she’d be uncomfortable acting on this level of public unruliness. But in that bar, full of people going about their evenings with little care for the rest of the world, she threw professionalism out the window.

And tickled him.

Jamie’s jaw went slack the second he knew what she was doing. His shocked expression didn’t last for long however, as his sides began to convulse, and he lapsed into violent shivers.

“A-ah-Angela!” he wailed. She persisted, smiling wickedly until he blurted out “Alright, y-you got me!” The moment she stopped, he flopped onto the table, mouth hanging open in surprise. “How the hell didja know I was ticklish?”

It was her turn to smirk. “I guessed.” Leaning in, she whispered “You’ve been known to jump if your sides are touched in your physicals.” He simply gaped up at her for a moment, and she looked angelically back, picking up her drink. “I know more about you than you think, Mr Fawkes.”

She knew it wasn’t the kind of behaviour expected of her, but Angela was having fun nonetheless. However, when she lifted the beverage to her mouth, Jamie did something equally unexpected. One of his long arms was casually thrown over her shoulder, and he pulled her in close, bending down so his lips were a hair’s breadth from her ear. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious I know more about _you_ than you think, Miss Ziegler.” His voice was low, husky even. Her pulse quickened, and she set the glass down with shaky hands.

“L-like what?” Jamie chuckled, the sound sending vibrations down her spine.

“Now why would I spoil the surprise?” Angela shivered. Hard. She heard him chuckle, then he withdrew, one arm still lazily sprawled over her shoulder.

Her face was turning bright red, and she could still feel Jamie’s eyes watching her. He was pushing her, touching her so casually, yet Angela’s heart still raced. Sneaking a furtive glance his direction, she made an interesting observation. His face was red too. Perhaps not as flushed as hers, but there was a definite pinkish hue decorating his cheeks. He still grinned, but there was an edge to it. Jamie was nervous too.

Despite all the signs, despite his words and everything else he’d done for her, she still needed more proof. _Damnit_. Cursing herself, Angela took a deep breath.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?” Their gazes met, and everything she’d been about to say evaporated on the tip of her tongue. Those unusual eyes were just so… intense. They made it impossible to think.

“Do you…”

Of course, the moment had to be broken when Jesse of all people stumbled back into the bar. Angela shifted off Jamie’s shoulder, moving to break eye contact, and stare at the table. _He might be drunk, but that damn cowboy has a good memory._

As McCree approached, she could see his lips moving, muttering something. As he got closer, she could hear: “… Stupid goddamn time zones… whaddya mean it’s three am?” As soon as he saw her, he stopped and grinned. “Angela! How’s my favourite medic?”

_Frustrated beyond belief._ “Good. How are you, Jesse?” she smiled politely, but secret disappointment rose up, and threatened to choke her. McCree collapsed into a chair and began to complain about something, but it all sounded so very far away. _Close_. Angela had been so incredibly close to getting some answers, and to have them snatched from her grasp…

Focusing on her irritation, she didn’t feel the poke at first. Then when something jabbed her sharply in the thigh, Angela looked down. It was a pen and a bunched-up napkin. Her heart jolted. Taking them thankfully, she uncapped the biro.

And paused. It was one thing to think about saying something, but to actually write it down? She knew this had to be clear, leaving no room for her own doubt.

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind. It was childish, sure. At least it would be straightforward.

Writing quickly under the table, Angela scrawled out the sentence “Do you like me?” and drew two boxes underneath, one with ‘yes’ written above it, the other ‘no’. Folding it over, the paper and pen were passed back, and she waited anxiously for a response. Painting a fake smile on, she nodded along with Jesse’s tale of woe for a few seconds before feeling another poke.

Angela took a deep breath, then glanced down.

_Yes._ He’d ticked yes.

Relief washed over her. The flirting wasn’t meaningless. He’d meant it. Jamie wanted _her_. The thought was dizzying, but she soon noticed underneath his reply, he’d written something.

_U?_

_He needs to know too_. She quickly looped the ‘yes’ box three times, and passed it back. Angela knew the moment he saw, because he exhaled sharply, and she heard a crumpling noise as he hastily stuffed the note back into his pocket. Sneaking a glance sideways, she saw he was grinning, shaking slightly as he reached for his drink. Jamie caught her eye and winked, but it wasn’t like the others he’d aimed her way. It was oddly reassuring.

“You two hidin’ something?” McCree slurred, cutting through the moment.

“N-no,” Angela stuttered. He studied her face intently, and she almost folded under his scrutiny. Finally, Jesse snapped his fingers.

“That’s what it is! Y’ain’t drunk enough.” Before waiting for a response, he lurched from the chair, and stumbled to the bar, leaving the two alone.

Angela was secretly hoping in his inebriated state, the barman wouldn’t hand over any alcohol. God knows what he was planning on bringing back.

Then Jamie’s hand touched hers, and she stopped thinking about the drunken cowboy altogether. She glanced up at him, and saw he stared at the table, tapping his metal fingers against the wood.

“Guess I should’a led with that one,” he murmured quietly, so only she could hear. “Was trying to make sure first.” Angela smiled sadly. She hadn’t even considered the fact that he was nervous about this too. Jamie was so confident and cocky, she’d just assumed he was taking it in his stride.

“Me too.” Eyes snapping up to hers, he snorted.

“No way. You’re… well, you. I’d have to be dead not to be attracted to ya.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Still with the flattery, Jamie?”

His face turned deadly serious. “You could have come on to me the first day we met. I wouldn’t have said no.”

Angela stilled. She didn’t really know what to make of that statement. It was obvious flattery, but the way he’d said it made her believe him.

There was a good possibility that he’d felt this way much longer than her.

Noticing the sudden tension, Jamie broke the silence by huffing a laugh. “What a pair we make, huh?” Lacing his fingers through hers, he squeezed her hand gently. Warmth blossomed inside Angela’s chest at the contact. Whatever the circumstances, she was comfortable at last.

A glass slamming down in front of her made them both jump. It was McCree, and he was grinning like a maniac. Jamie slid their joined hands under the table, but didn’t let go. She was so grateful at the gesture, not quite willing yet to share her newfound feelings with the world.

“Got ya both somethin’ with a bit of kick to it,” Jesse slurred. Somehow, he’d managed to carry three large glasses of a suspicious amber liquid back to the table without spilling a drop. It would have been impressive, if Angela had wanted another drink in the first place. Jamie picked his up, and took a sniff.

“Bourbon?” he asked.

McCree nodded enthusiastically. “Good shit, right there. S’ made in the ol’ US of A.”

Lifting it to his lips, Jamie sipped it. “Not bad,” he shrugged, before taking a decent mouthful. Not wanting to refuse, Angela tried it and coughed.

McCree laughed. “Too strong for you, darlin’?”

For some reason, whether it be a newfound confidence from finally sorting things out with Jamie, or just the desire to prove Jesse wrong, Angela levelled a glare at the cowboy, and drained the glass.

He whistled. “Now that’s more like it. Although yer supposed to sip it, I admire your courage.”

At that moment, the doors to the pub swung open, and a small group of agents entered. Angela wasn’t surprised to see Reinhardt and Torbjörn among them, but Ana’s presence was unusual. The petite senior was laughing, jabbing her companions in the ribs at some unheard joke. Roadhog stood next to them, accompanying a small woman she’d never seen before. This was probably Mei. She appeared to be talking animatedly to the large man.

McCree stood up again. “I’ll get some more drinks. Angela, round two?”

She thought about it. “Sure.”

That was her first mistake of the evening.

*

Sombra woke to the sound of someone crying. It was quiet, but she’d always been a light sleeper. Slipping out of bed, she followed the sound until she stood outside the guest room door. She knocked lightly, and the sobbing stopped. There was silence.

Sombra didn’t know what to do. She should leave the woman alone, give her time. But that wasn’t her way.

Opening the door, she saw Lacroix curled up under a thick quilt, eyes red, hair a mess.

“It was just a bad dream,” she muttered, staring at the wall as if seconds before, some evil spirit had been stood right there. “Just a bad dream.” She was rocking herself back and forth, reciting those words, as if repetition would make them true.

Sombra inched her way over to the mass of covers, and laid a tentative hand on what she assumed to be Lacroix’s shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” she said gently. “You’re safe with me.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, to be awkward as hell and in love <3  
> I wonder what Jamie meant about the first day they'd met? I guess we'll have to wait and see >:)  
> Until next time *^^*


	6. DON'T FREAK OUT

It was late. Later than Angela had planned to stay out, certainly. Last call had just been announced amidst various shouts of dissatisfaction, and after finishing her drink, she found herself linking arms with Jamie and Mei to stagger out into the night.

Mei-Ling Zhou was delightful conversation, she’d decided. They’d chatted a bit about climate manipulation and the long-term effects of cryostasis, then she’d pulled up some blueprints on her phone and they’d discussed design versus practicality. Somewhere along the way, after several more bourbons with Jesse, she’d started drinking with Ana, thinking the elderly woman wouldn’t be as enthusiastic as the others.

She’d been very, very mistaken.

As it turned out, Ana had a higher alcohol tolerance than anyone else in the room, and had matched each of her own drinks with one for Angela. There was no telling what had been in the sickly-sweet concoctions, but it had been strong. She didn’t exactly remember when, but at some point after this, conversation had turned to Jamie and Mako.

Mei had told stories of their various escapades in the run up to the final offensive against Talon, and the two Junkers joined in with differing amounts of enthusiasm. She was a great storyteller, and despite Angela’s state of inebriation, had her hanging on every word.

Her memory became even fuzzier after that, vaguely recalling someone handing her a glass of water, and being helped out of her seat when the time came to leave.

And now she was outside, lolling against a streetlamp as the others bickered over taxis. There was something oddly hilarious about the scene. The way Reinhardt, red faced and booming, proffering his arm to Ana acted as a centrepiece to the others around them. Mako stood off to the right, the ever-talkative Mei grinning at him over an unheard statement. Torbjörn was deep in conversation with Jamie, who when she caught his eye, looked suddenly a little less relaxed. Angela grinned slowly in response. She was vaguely aware he was making sounds at her, but wasn’t entirely concentrating on what they were. She was too preoccupied with the scene as a whole, enjoying the sensation of being an observer in this fuzzy world. It was like a renaissance painting, colours muted by the dim streetlights. The way they danced before her eyes was beautiful, but oddly tiring.

God, she was exhausted. _I’ll just shut my eyes_ , Angela thought. _Just for a moment._

After a second, she could have sworn she felt strong arms wrap around her, but before pondering on it any more, the world lapsed into silence.

*

“Mmm…” Sombra murmured, her voice full of sleep. She could feel the weak sunlight trickling through the curtains and gently falling on her eyelids. She was rested, extremely so. Recent events had drained her, and it was so good to stretch out in her own bed, and-

She froze. _I don’t own anything silk._ But Lacroix did. Cracking an eye open and drinking in the view in front of her, Sombra for once had no words.

She lay in the guest bed, tangled between covers and… Lacroix. The woman was curled up against her chest, glorious hair spilling over the pillow.

She was breath-taking.

It was hard to look away, but eventually Sombra managed, shutting her eyes again. Now she’d woken up a little more, last night’s memories flowed freely into her head.

Lacroix had been practically catatonic over whatever she’d seen. She’d shook so hard that it seemed she’d shatter at the slightest touch, cold and delicate. Sombra had consoled her, letting the woman cry into her shoulder all whilst stroking her messy hair, smoothing it. She knew full well that it hadn’t just been a dream, whatever Lacroix wanted to believe. Eventually, she’d calmed down, shaking subsiding until they sat, still holding each other.

And then she’d looked up, and the expression on her face… Sombra couldn’t leave her like that. So she’d got out the hairbrush, smoothing strand after strand of Lacroix’s hair until it fell straight, tumbling over her back. They’d talked for a while, murmured words back and forth until eyes drooped, and sleep had beckoned once more.

She hadn’t wanted to leave, and it seemed the feeling was mutual, as Lacroix caught the back of her tank top and wouldn’t let go. Sombra stayed, stroking the taller woman’s hair as they drifted back to unconsciousness.

The only problem was that the position they’d ended up in was much more intimate. She was trying her hardest not to think about those creamy legs intertwined with the covers. That beautiful hair cascading down the pillows. The fact that Lacroix’s face rested less than an inch from her chest… _Mierda_.

It was one of her fantasies brought to life, and yet the situation was so innocent. Pure. Whenever this scene had come to mind, it was always right after sex. Lacroix passed out, satiated and relaxed, and Sombra tracing lazy patterns into her skin.

And always playing with her hair.

_Like that’s ever gonna happen_. She sighed, and opened her eyes to stand up. It was about time for breakfast, and she’d left her phone in the other room. Angela would probably need an update soon.

No sooner had she shifted, Lacroix frowned in her sleep and slender arms shot up to pull her back.

“Nooo,” she moaned softly, and Sombra couldn’t help the little smile that appeared on her lips. A little while longer wouldn’t hurt, she supposed.

And Lacroix was warm.

*

Pancakes. Angela could smell pancakes. She sat up, immediately regretting the decision as her brain felt like someone had been tap dancing on it.

_What the hell happened last night?_ At least she was in her own bed, still dressed from the night before. Glancing around, she noticed her sensible black heels sat in a pair by the door, and her coat on the hanger above them. Being as she didn’t remember much, it was obvious that this level of neatness hadn’t come from her.

_Pancakes_. The smell was getting stronger, and the more she thought about it, Angela swore she could hear someone humming.

Gently swinging her legs from the bed, she turned to get up before stopping. There was a glass of water sitting on the nightstand with a packet of paracetamol. A note was propped up at the side. She didn’t have to look at the words to know who it was from.

The paper was a napkin.

Memories of those first few minutes in the pub came flooding back. The confession. _Jamie’s here?_ A cold feeling washed over her. _Did we…?_ Sudden anxiety overwhelmed her, and Angela grabbed the white square and began to read.

_Angela,_

_DON’T FREAK OUT._

_You passed out, and I brought you back. You scared us a bit, falling over like that, and I couldn’t go until I knew you were ok. Stayed on the sofa. There’s food downstairs when you feel ok for it._

_Jamie_

She sighed in relief, but it was more than that. He’d brought her home, taken care of her. He hadn’t needed to leave a note, but did anyway, knowing she’d worry. And now he was cooking her breakfast.

She was going to have to face him.

_Oh God._ Angela knew she’d been extremely drunk, and that was bad enough after deciding to only have a little, but the fact she’d passed out made her want to crawl back under the covers and hide from the world.

Then her stomach growled and she groaned. The delicious aroma coming from her kitchen was proving to be a little much. Taking off her office wear, she pulled on a comfy oversized sweater and leggings. Swallowing two pills with the water, she cracked open the bedroom door and slunk out.

As the open door to the kitchen came into sight, Angela realised the humming she’d heard earlier had changed into singing. Jamie had turned on her radio, and was lazily flipping pancakes to some show of hits from days past. He was quiet, but she knew the tune despite him being appallingly off-key. He was also wearing last night’s clothes, but his thick hoodie hung on a coat hanger by the door. It was very… domestic.

Hearing her footsteps, Jamie turned and smirked, flicking on the kettle. “G’morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” Angela took a seat at the breakfast bar and rested her head on a hand. “Thank you for looking after me. I really overdid it last night.”

“You don’t say?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Christ Angela, you scared us half to death. Poor Torb…”

She groaned. “I feel terrible. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too stupid.”

“Nah, nothing much,” he looked thoughtfully at her. “Although…”

“Although what?”

“Hmm… think I’ll keep that one to meself actually.” Jamie cackled in earnest at her worried expression. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You did nothing but pass out.” The kettle appeared to have been turned on earlier, as it didn’t take long for the water to heat. Sliding over a full plate and a steaming mug of coffee, he grabbed a plate for himself and sat. She took a sip gratefully, and began to eat.

The pancakes were surprisingly good; a little charred on the edges, but sweet and fluffy inside. It was definitely not what Angela would have made for herself, preferring a savoury breakfast or fruit, but it was delicious all the same.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any syrup,” she said, watching as Jamie poured an excess of sugar over the already sweet meal.

He waved her off. “S’ fine. Sugar’s more than good enough.”

They ate in silence for a while. It was nice, she thought, the very nature of the situation different to the last time they’d had breakfast together, but just as pleasant.

Eventually, Jamie pushed his plate away and belched happily. “Decent,” he nodded. “Could’a done better, but that’ll have to wait for another time.”

Angela smiled warmly. _He’s as crass as ever._ “Already thinking of cooking for me again?”

“Yes.” His grin faltered. “Except if you don’t want me to.”

“I’d love that. Unless…” a thought crossed her mind. “I could cook for you next time? Maybe, if you want to come over again, I can do dinner?”

Jamie looked like he’d been hit by a bus, evident shock written all over his face. Then, as quick as it had appeared, the surprise was replaced with a mixture of excitement and… relief? _That’s odd._ “Are you kiddin’ me? That would be great!”

“Excellent!” She clapped her hands together. “When are you free?”

“When am I not?” Grinning, he leant in slightly. “If it’s for you, Ange, anytime is fine.”

She blushed. “So, would Tuesday night be okay?” he nodded. “Then… it’s a date?”

“I guess it is.” It was a thrilling thought.

“I’ll let you know what’s on the menu beforehand in case you have any objections.”

“I’ll eat just about anything.” Pausing, Jamie pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I should probably give you my number. Y’know, in case plans change and I don’t see ya.”

She doubted that would be the case but was happy he’d offered. “Of course.” They exchanged numbers, and Angela moved to do the washing up, but he stopped her.

“Nuh-uh, my mess, my problem.”

She shook her head. “I made you worry and come out of your way to get me home safely. Plus, it’s my house. I’ll do it.” Taking the plates from the table, she rinsed them off and started to load the dishwasher. _He’s certainly made a mess,_ she chuckled to herself. Eggshells littered the countertop, patches of flour decorating the hob. Jamie seemed a little embarrassed, but Angela didn’t mind.

“Didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” she heard him mutter. The words weren’t meant for her, but it warmed her nonetheless.

After she’d finished, they chatted for a little while. Nothing too important, but it was purely nice conversation. It was an opportunity to get to know him a little better, and Angela took it gratefully. After all, they’d never really socialised, apart from his recurring visits to the medical bay.

Eventually, he stood up. “I, err, should probably get goin’. Roadie’ll be worrying.”

Angela was a little disappointed, but he had to leave sometime. It was a blessing he hadn’t run out before she woke. Smiling, she rose. “Of course. You need your weekend too.”

“As much as I’d prefer to spend it with you, you’re right. Need ta prep for Monday’s field exercise.” Angela walked him to the door, and there Jamie stopped, pulling his hoodie from the coat rack, before turning the handle. “Text me, yeah?”

She nodded, then stilled abruptly when he bent down and pressed his lips lightly against her cheek.

“Bye, Angela,” he murmured, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

And then Jamie was gone, leaving her staring up at the spot he’d looked down at her from.

“Damn that man,” She whispered, but there was no heat to her words. A slow smile crept its way onto her face.

Waiting for Tuesday was going to be hell.

*

Not that far away, down a long-deserted corridor, someone stirred. It was about time.

Instructions were to be followed, after all.

And what a perfect, wonderful opportunity to experiment on a previous subject.

Because the lovely Mercy was coming to visit, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update -_- this week has not been fun.  
> Hopefully next chapter will be a little easier to write *^^*


	7. A Single Name

Waiting for Tuesday was harder than Angela thought possible. The days between had crawled by, each slower and duller than the last. Jamie had popped by for a few minutes on Monday afternoon, not long enough for a proper conversation, but it was good to see him.

And, of course, they’d been texting. Unsurprisingly, he was almost always on his phone, so they’d been in near constant contact. He’d sent her photos from meetings, always with a silly filter. Angela should have reprimanded him, but she had to admit putting dog ears on Winston was oddly hilarious. Especially when Jamie was caught, mid-photo. The gorilla’s stunned expression (with added huge eyes) had made her snort into her coffee. He hadn’t sent any more after that, both a disappointment and relief.

She had to admit though, the messages were making the wait much more difficult. Angela sighed, checking her phone for what seemed like the tenth time in a minute. It was 4:54pm, and she was due to leave soon. As soon as she got home, she’d prep the food change into the casual black dress that lay on her desk. She’d been marinating steaks since the night before, a mix of spices she’d used time and time again. After agonising over what to wear and cook for hours, deciding on these old favourites had been a relief. They were familiar. A safe bet.

Angela was still nervous though, and she suspected it was something to do with the fact Jamie himself was anything but a safe bet. His unpredictable energy was downright fun, but it was just that; impulsive and changeable. He’d shown a remarkably soft side over the last week, but the fact remained that he did and said what he wanted. It worried her immensely. What if the dress was too much? What if he didn’t like the food?

It had been far too long since she’d been on a date. Angela wanted this badly, but damnit she was scared.

4:56. The more she thought about it, the slower time crawled by, prolonging the inevitable.

It would be good for her, she admitted. Even if nothing went to plan and the night ended in disappointment, at least she’d tried. More than could be said about most of her failed first dates.

Angela didn’t want things to end so abruptly. And therein laid the rub.

She cared.

4:58. Angela had enough. No one would care if she left two minutes early. It wasn’t like Jack was standing outside with a stopwatch. She capped the pen that had been anxiously tapping against a blank page and began to shove her belongings haphazardly into her bag. He was coming in two hours. That meant twenty minutes to get home, an hour to get ready, and the rest to attempt to calm down.

But she knew it wouldn’t work.

*

Sombra’s apartment was normally silent when she returned, but as the door clicked shut and she dumped her keys into the waiting bowl, a faint clacking filled the air. Grinning, she began to take off her jacket and bag, hanging them up neatly.

She’d taught Lacroix the basics of knitting the day before. It wasn’t a glamorous pastime, but she’d figured the woman should do something other than read all day. Besides, it was fun and a good distraction from whatever had been bouncing round in her head. Sombra loved to knit. It was remarkably similar to her day job, making patterns and sequences that couldn’t be unravelled. Plus, the bonus was that she didn’t have to figure out finicky presents. Everyone got a jumper. How lumpy it was depended on the nicety of the individual. She knew for a fact somewhere in Château Guillard lay a cream cashmere scarf, one of her best attempts with the wool.

Her other ‘co-workers’ in Talon however had not received the same level of care. She sniggered. Gabe’s freakish bird cardigan was stuff of legend.

She wished she knew if he still had it.

Sighing, she headed for the living room, stopping to grab a water bottle from the fridge on the way. Sure enough, Lacroix was hunched over on the sofa, scowling at a fibrous mass that Sombra first thought was just the ball of wool. It wasn’t.

“I’m not very good at this,” she muttered, eyes flashing as she tried to find an end to the mess.

Laughing, Sombra plonked down next to her. “Pass it over _araña_. You’re still learning, it’s an excusable mistake.” She took the bundle and began to unpick it, gently separating purple strands. At least there weren’t any tight knots. Lacroix flopped back with a huff.

“I usually learn these things fast. It’s so annoying,” she groaned, pulling her forearm up to cover her eyes.

“Knitting is not ballet. I think you’re overcomplicating it. Once you’ve got the hang of it properly, there will be no thought involved.”

She worked quickly, carefully detangling the yarn whilst Lacroix watched. Sombra’s hands were nimble, effortlessly tugging loop after loop free until all that remained were the few rows she’d done correctly. They were still lumpy, but far less so than the thick muddle that had been removed. Adding a couple more for good measure, she handed it back.

“That would have taken me hours.” Lacroix was dumbstruck as she closely examined the work. “Show me how you did it.” She thrust the fabric back with a little more force than necessary.

Sombra laughed. “A ‘please’ would be nice.” Seeing the other’s stony expression, she pouted. “Aww, not happy that I’m better at something than you? Never mind, I’ll show you.”

Despite her obvious dislike towards Sombra’s goading, Lacroix watched intently as she knitted another row, slowly moving to demonstrate yet again how it should be done. She still looked confused, a deep wrinkle set firmly between her eyes, but when it was passed back, the clarification seemed to have worked. Another row was made without major fault.

“There, see? Not too hard.” Sombra grinned, and placed her hand on top of Lacroix’s own, loosening her grip on the needles. “You’re too tense, relax a little and don’t pull the wool too tight.”

“Easy for you to say,” she murmured, but her grip loosened.

As Lacroix knitted, Sombra watched quietly, giving input when needed. Apparently, it was required quite a lot, as every few minutes the woman’s hands seemed to tense up, seizing her shoulders and back into barely moving stiffness. When it was pointed out, she relaxed again, the little scowl of concentration permanently etched onto her face. But the tension would soon be back.

When Sombra’s hands touched her shoulders however, she stilled altogether. “What-,”

“Shhh. Relax _chula_ , I’m gonna help you.” She began to knead out the tightness in the woman’s shoulders, gradually loosening them until Lacroix turned to give her full access.

“You are pretty good at that too,” she murmured, dropping the knitting into her lap.

“What can I say? I’m good with my hands.” As soon as she’d said it, Sombra realised how inappropriate the phrase sounded. She wanted to kick herself, cringing at the words that had left her lips. But Lacroix didn’t seem to have noticed, sweeping her ponytail over one shoulder to reveal the back of her neck. Sombra complied and massaged there too. It was seemingly the tensest part of the woman’s body, and as she worked the taut muscles at the base, Lacroix let out a low moan.

It was like a thousand volts to the spine. Sombra straightened immediately, feeling a rush of heat wash over her face before pooling low. The sound was like a damn siren-song. _Mierda. This was totally innocent to start with._ How the fuck was she supposed to continue now?

Her hands kept moving, but they were jerky, less refined. Lacroix glanced over her shoulder, eyes questioning. Sombra cleared her throat, and pulled away, folding her arms.

“My, err, arms are tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh.” The words were murmured in hushed tones, and Sombra cursed herself, wishing she could just continue helping her relax.

“I-it’s ok, I’ll do some more another time.” _Maybe._ It wasn’t likely, the thoughts that accompanied massaging Lacroix now turning less than savoury.

She didn’t speak again for a while, the atmosphere quickly turning uncomfortable. Staring at the floor, Sombra contemplated just leaving the room so she could rage at herself in peace for ruining the moment. That was, of course, until slender arms reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Umm…” She couldn’t see the woman’s face, buried in her hair. But she could feel the shaking. It was minute, the trembling barely noticeable, unless you were looking for it.

“I’m sorry.”

The statement was so out of place, but then again Lacroix was on masses of mood altering medication. Sombra patted her back gingerly.

“Nothing to apologise for, _araña_. You’re fine.”

“No,” she bit out harshly. “I’m here, in your house, and you’re being so _nice_. You’ve let me stay here, and I keep asking for more. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Pulling out of the hug, Sombra smirked at her. “We’re friends, remember?”

Lacroix didn’t return the smile. Instead, she grew pale, deathly so. Her eyes widened, glazing over slightly, as she stared into the distance.

“Lacroix?” When no response came, she grabbed the woman’s shoulders and shook. “Lacroix, are you ok?”

She was frozen, transfixed by something Sombra couldn’t see. Dread filled her, and she shook harder.

“ _Amélie?_ ” Suddenly, the woman’s eyes snapped down to hers, an unspeakable horror filling them.

A single name left her lips. It was enough to tell Sombra all she needed to know, and as she whipped out her phone, hitting the first contact on her list, there was only one thing on her mind.

Lacroix had remembered something important.

*

It was ten minutes past seven, and Angela was pacing her kitchen end to end. Ten minutes wasn’t a big deal, right? She’d quashed her uncertainty over the dress and had donned a pair of comfy flats to match. They were sensible, but she wasn’t really going to wear heels around her own home. It was pointless.

But so would be dressing up at all if Jamie didn’t show soon. She had to keep reminding herself that most people wouldn’t care about a minute delay like this. There was always the possibility of bad traffic. He was still coming.

But what if he didn’t?

As if on cue, she heard a loud engine pull into her driveway. _He’s here._

Angela had to restrain herself from running to the door. She wasn’t an anxious teen, and composure was important in these things. So she waited, worrying the hem of her dress until Jamie’s signature knock rang out loud and clear. She walked at a decent pace, stopping only to briefly glance in the hallway mirror, checking her makeup before opening the door.

And could only stare.

He’d dressed up. Jamie wore a grey button up shirt under a leather jacket which he appeared to have been attempting to shrug out of before she could open the door. He’d paired this with dark jeans, and _damn_ did he look good. But the most curious part of all was the motorcycle helmet he held under one arm. And the sleek, black machine parked next to her utilitarian SUV.

“Hey.” His grin stretched ear to ear. Angela knew he was aware of her gaze on the bike.

“Hi.” She smiled, holding the door open to invite him in. “I didn’t know you had a motorbike.”

Jamie shrugged, hanging up his jacket on a hook. “Had it for a while. Modified, on account of the leg, but it runs real good.” Placing his helmet down on the hall counter, he faced her, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Scared for my safety, doc?”

In truth, Angela was more fascinated than anything. It was a world she’d never experienced before. “You and I both know it takes more than a few hard knocks to injure you. At least you’re wearing a helmet.”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair, which she now noticed was cleaner than usual. All of him was; the grease and grime from work nowhere to be seen.

Snapping her eyes up from the cursory glance, she noticed he was doing the same. He caught her gaze, and his expression softened. “You look really good tonight, Angela,” Jamie murmured, taking a step closer.

“So do you.” And he did. The shirt fitted well, grey being a good colour on him. But he shook his head and reached out to catch her chin between thumb and forefinger.

“Roadie helped me. Doesn’t count.” She would have laughed, but he was so close now, looking down at her with an almost reverent regard. “You, on the other hand…” he bent his head to press a kiss against her cheek. “… what a beaut.”

Had she been thinking straight, Angela could have timed the three seconds it took for her face to flush red. Instead, she stood stock-still, staring up at him. Her expression must have been damn near priceless, because Jamie chuckled in amusement and straightened, moving to pass her and head into the kitchen.

Her pulse was racing, bouncing around in her ears and flooding warmth into her whole body, but Angela tried to compose herself. Why was she acting like this? Jamie was by no means the first person to touch her like that, but the way she’d responded…

And that begged the question: what would her reaction to a proper kiss be?

Angela shook her head, and followed him into the kitchen. _I’ll just have to find out when the time comes._

Jamie had already taken a seat at the breakfast bar, looking so different from Saturday morning. He smirked as she caught his eye. “Fully recovered yet, doc?”

She shot a mock glare his way, her cheek still warm from where he’d touched. “The real question is are you hungry?”

He nodded vigorously. “Been dreamin’ of those steaks since ya let me know what we were eating.”

“I’ll get started then.” Turning, she switched on the oven, and pulled the steaks and a bowl of sliced potatoes from the fridge. “It’ll be about half an hour once everything’s heated up. I hope that’s ok.”

“I can wait,” Jamie rested his head in his hands, watching her intently. “‘M a patient person.”

At that, she had to laugh. “ _Sure_.”

“What? I can be if I try,” he muttered. Angela turned back to the potatoes, and began to arrange them out on a baking sheet. It felt like he’d meant something with that statement. What, she wasn’t entirely sure, but as she searched the spice rack for thyme it was at the forefront of her mind.

Then the phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she was surprised to see Sombra’s name. “I have to take this.” Accepting it with a frown, she took a deep breath. “Sombra, is Amélie-,”

She was cut short as the woman began to speak frantically. Angela listened intently, but the more she heard, the worse it got. And one word stuck in her head more than anything else.

_Gabe._

_*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN!!!!!


	8. Her

_Gabe._

After hanging up, Angela went into autopilot mode. She shut off the oven, and dropped onto a chair, barely alert to Jamie’s worried queries.

_He’s deteriorating. Fast._ Sombra had been panicked, promising to call Jack immediately. There would have to be an emergency council, one Angela knew she would be a part of.

Before Talon’s final stand, she’d been ready. Ready to help him, to reverse whatever that woman had done to him. Jack had all but plead her to be. Then, when they’d stormed the base, he was nowhere to be found. He’d vanished into the wind. As much as the team had tried, they couldn’t extract any information on where.

They’d just assumed he was hiding, but after what Amélie had just remembered, that wasn’t necessarily the case.

And now…

Jamie crouched down to eye level. He was looking at her, she knew. Studying her face.

“I-I’m sorry. I need to go,” Angela mumbled, but she made no move to stand, gaze still locked on the table. “Something important just came up, and it’s vital I get to HQ as soon as I can.”

“Its fine,” Jamie reached out and took her hand. “I’ve got good hearing. S’ she ok? Lacroix, I mean.”

“Yeah.” It was all but a whisper. “Sombra will take care of her.” _But who’s going to take care of me?_ The question was a fleeting thought she tried to crush immediately to no success. Who would take care of her? She hadn’t been as close to Gabe as the others, but he was her friend too, damnit. Plus, there were other people involved. People whose names she’d rather not hear, let alone discuss. This was going to get tough. “I need to get my keys.” Shaking slightly, Angela moved to stand, but a firm hand immediately met with her shoulder, keeping her seated.

“You think I’m gonna let you drive like this?” Jamie spoke gently, but there was an underlying caution in his tone.

“I have to-,”

“Ya can’t even look at me right now, and you’re shaking like a leaf. I’m not letting you behind the wheel.”

“I’ll be fine.” Angela tried to make eye contact, but the moment she did, they filled with tears, pricking uncomfortably.

Jamie huffed a laugh. “Ya think? You’re not ok, anyone can see that.”

He was right. In the state she was in now, it would be a death wish to get behind the wheel. “I’ll ring a taxi, although it could be a while.”

Jamie smirked, ruffling her hair as she pulled out her phone to search for a number. “Good girl.” Suddenly, his expression changed, eyes lighting up a little as his smile grew. “Y’know, I’ve just thought of a way you could get there real fast. Without breaking any traffic laws o’ course.” He added slyly.

“How?” Although Angela could already see where this was going. And she had to admit, she wasn’t averse to the idea.”

“I have a spare helmet.”

And that was how, ten minutes later, Angela found herself clipping on said helmet after changing into a pair of trousers and a heavy-duty jacket. It certainly wasn’t her usual professional attire, but she’d rather not wear the little black dress from earlier on the back of Jamie’s bike.

After checking her chin strap was securely fastened and placing her purse in the storage compartment, he pulled on his own helmet, and sat, turning around to face her.

“Y’know how this works, right?” She nodded firmly. “Good. Hop on then.”

The bike was surprisingly comfortable, and Angela took her place behind him on the seat, and dug her feet firmly onto the pillion foot grips. Glancing back as he turned the keys, she could see a smile crinkling his eyes. “Don’t forget to hold on tight!” he called above the roaring engine. She did as she was told, snaking her arms around his waist and clinging on as the bike took off.

It was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, Angela thought as the bike tore through London’s darkened streets. Jamie was a good driver (despite the fact he certainly wasn’t obeying the speed limit) and barely jostled her as they turned corners. She still hugged him as tight as she could, eyes clamped shut. The night air was cold, cutting through her jacket and down to the bone. The adrenaline coursing through her veins essentially cancelled it out after a few minutes, and when it did, she started to look around.

Streetlights zipped by, blurring into a mass of streaky oranges and yellows punctuated with neon shop signs. Faces left focus as soon as they’d been seen, a millisecond of time for each pedestrian before they disappeared, left behind. It was hypnotic.

Somehow, Jamie knew the way with no direction, which was good, and after no more than another ten minutes, they’d arrived.

Switching the engine off, he removed his helmet and grinned at her. “So? Not bad fer a first drive?”

“Petrifying.” Jamie looked a little downcast, until she grinned. “But brilliant.”

“You’ll have ta come with me on a proper drive sometime then, yeah?” _Cocky,_ she thought. _But yes, I will._

She nodded in agreement. Despite tonight not going to plan, at least Jamie still intended on seeing her again. Her arms were still around his waist, and she took the opportunity to sink into the hug a little more, relaxing against his back. The helmet got in the way, but taking it off would mean letting go, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet. Perhaps he’d wait in her office, and she could selfishly steal a little more time like this if he drove her home.

Now there was a thought. One that ended as he tensed.

“Umm, Ange?”

“Yes?”

“Y’know as much as I like you wrapping your arms around me, that’s probably not what yer boss was expecting to see when he got outta his car.”

_Shit._ Immediately pulling back, Angela spun around to see Jack, car keys still in his outstretched fist, frozen in the process of locking up.

“Oh…” He was definitely not expecting this.

“Jack, I know what you’re thinking-,” she yanked off the helmet, and swung a leg over the bike to stand and face him, bracing herself for the worst.

“Yeah, that I owe someone a whole lot of money,” he growled, but the words were without heat. In fact, he was smiling.

“What?”

“Ana and I had a bet going over who you were eventually going to start dating. I thought all that time you and Genji spent together…” he sighed, but his tired eyes were dancing with pride. “Seems she saw something I didn’t. Always seems to be the case.”

“Y-You bet on my relationship status?” Angela almost shrieked. That Jack had thought her and Genji to be any more than colleagues and friends was one thing, but betting on her romantic endeavours?

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry. It was just a stupid bet, no harm done.”

“It’s ok.” Angela cooled down a little. She’d speak to Ana about this later. Jack had a lot on his plate right now, and it wouldn’t be right to get too annoyed over something so utterly insignificant. “Do you know where we’re meeting yet?”

“Conference room D.” Leaning sideways a little to look at Jamie, he grinned wearily. “Seeing as you’re here you may as well come along. We want to keep this low-profile, but I’m guessing you already know what’s going on. And besides, a demolition expert could come in handy further down the line.”

The mere mention of destruction had Jamie’s eyes lighting up, and he nodded vigorously. “Yes sir!”

Jack chuckled, and headed into the building, leaving the two alone once more. Sighing, Angela sank down onto the short brick wall that separated cars and pavement.

“That went better than expected,” she muttered into her hands. “Although knowing Jack, the entire room will be well informed on our… situation by the time we get in there.” She could already feel her blush as it crept up her neck.

“So?” There was a click as Jamie lowered the kickstand, then he was beside her on the wall. “They were gonna know at some point.”

“Yes, but-,”

“But what? S’ nothing scandalous about it. I’m seein’ you, same as a lot of other folks are seein’ people. Unless you’re embarrassed ta be with me, there should be nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, and Jamie chuckled, raising an arm to wrap around her and squeeze her shoulders.

“I know. An’ like I said, nothing to worry about.”

Angela leant into him for a while, turning her face into his jacket while Jamie rubbed her shoulder in quiet comfort. It made her feel a little more at ease, just for the moment, but that was enough.

“Suppose we’d better get moving then,” he huffed eventually, and she nodded into the leather. Whatever peace they’d just obtained was about to be shattered by this meeting, and the sooner it began, the sooner it would be over.

Standing up, Angela proffered her hand. “I’m glad Jack invited you though. I feel like it will be better with you around.”

He took it, and after retrieving her purse began to walk. “To be completely honest, I dunno about this Reaper bloke. He sounds a bit dodgy, an’ may have tried to kill me more than once, but if you think he’s worth it…”

Angela paused, trying to think of how to best phrase Gabe’s state, without bringing _her_ into it just yet. _There will be plenty of time for that later._ “You know how Amélie wasn’t in control of her actions in Talon?” Jamie nodded, realisation dawning on his face. “Gabe tried to make himself into the perfect soldier. The experiments twisted his mind in such a way that the rebellious streak he’s always had turned into something much more serious.”

“And you’re gonna fix that,” Jamie grinned. He hadn’t even questioned whether she could, just stating, plain as day, that she would help him.

“I’m going to do everything I can. I owe it to Jack.”

“Yeah. That part I’d heard about. Must be rough.” _You have no idea._ He’d been inconsolable for the weeks following the final raids, locked in his office pouring over maps. It had almost destroyed him, all their efforts being to no avail.

“It won’t be once we get Gabe back.” And she was absolutely 100% certain they would.

*

Angela was a seasoned war-zone medic. She’d seen everything, and nothing surprised her anymore.

But the sight of little old Ana Amari standing on her chair hollering “Victory is mine!” to the heavens as Jack forked over a large amount of cash was not something easily anticipated.

She was somewhat thankful for it though, as the tension in the room was almost unbearable. Sombra stood behind Amélie’s chair, hands firmly locked onto its back. Guarding her from harm, Angela supposed. Despite her small stature, the state she was in now radiated fury. Amélie on the other hand… her heart sank. She was retreating into herself again, eyes fixed downwards. Every now and then Sombra leant in to whisper something in her ear, and she would either nod, or shake her head in response. At least there was communication. McCree and Genji sat at the far end of the table, both conversing in hushed tones about something. That they’d been invited didn’t surprise her in the least; both having been Blackwatch agents who’d worked closely with Gabe.

Winston’s absence was curious, although Angela was confident he’d sat this one out for a reason. The gorilla wasn’t exactly low-profile, and dealt with bureaucratic matters more than field work these days. The assembled team made perfect sense for the time being. At least, until they knew what awaited.

After closing his wallet, Jack called the meeting to order, and everyone took their seats. Angela was between Jamie and Amélie, directly opposite Ana.

“You all know why we’re here,” Jack began, leaning forwards onto the table. “Lacroix remembered some crucial information about the location and condition of Gabriel Reyes.” Turning to her, his voice softened. “Can you tell us what you remembered?”

Amélie shuddered, and glanced over to Sombra. The woman nodded reassuringly. “I saw what happened before your forces began the assault. Reyes had been deteriorating for some days by then, losing his power to stay… solid. A few hours before you arrived, he was taken away. To a clinic, she said.”

“She?” Jack’s eyebrows raised, and suddenly Angela felt almost every eye in the room flit over to her for a moment. _Of course._

“Moira.”

It was a name she’d dreaded hearing, but one she’d resolved not to flinch at. That would mean letting _her_ win. And obviously she was going to come up when discussing Blackwatch agents.

“So, O’Deorain was involved…” Jack murmured. Amélie shook her head.

“No. She _organised_ it. There was a discussion…” she narrowed her eyes. “She said Reyes was a liability in his condition, and that he could give intel in exchange for help.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and it took Angela a moment to realise it had been her own. “She knew he was struggling and didn’t _help_?” she hissed from between clenched teeth. That was low. Even for Moira.

“He’s a bargaining chip,” Jack murmured. Glancing at Sombra, he all but growled the next sentence. “And you didn’t know about this?”

“Not a bit. Apparently O’Deorain was aware of my position long before she shared that knowledge with the rest of her team, so nothing was kept in her files either.”

Amélie mumbled in agreement. “I was included because Moira was confident you wouldn’t be able to restore me. Obviously, she was wrong.”

“So, this clinic-,” Jack began, but was cut off.

“Before you ask, I know nothing of its whereabouts. That information lies with her.”

And there was an issue. “You mean we’re going to have to extract it from O’Deorain?”

“Yes.”

Angela was aware Sombra was shooting her an apologetic glance, but it didn’t matter. Moira being involved was one thing, but how absolutely massive of a part she was going to play was something she hadn’t accounted for.

“I need a moment.” Angela rose, struggling to stay composed. Ignoring Jamie’s “what’s wrong?” she let herself out, making a beeline for the ladies’ room. It was only around the corner, but it seemed like she walked for miles. Letting herself in, she locked the stall door behind her, and the shivers began.

Moira O’Deorain. Her first love, turned abusive psychopath. _Why does it have to be her?_

Tears were falling freely now, dripping down her cheeks and falling to the floor. Just when the past was finally behind her, the same threat loomed like an iceberg in the dark, threatening to drown her in memories and doubt once more. And this time, Moira had no reason to be nice. _Who am I kidding. She’s never been nice._ Purely appropriate enough on the surface, but inside… _In private…_

Angela retched, feeling a wave of sickness pass over her to accompany the thoughts filling her head. _Oh God._ She tucked her head between her legs and tried to take deep, measured breaths. Her tears did nothing to help, and before long, what had been simply an opportunity to cry and let out emotion turned into a full-blown panic attack.

It was all coming back. Every moment. Every word.

It was all real again.

*

A lot of time had passed. Angela didn’t know exactly how much, but it was long enough for the others to worry. She had to go back, but gazing at herself in the bathroom mirror she knew it wasn’t advisable in this state. Eyes bright red and puffy, hair a dishevelled mess.

She had considered returning to her office to grab her hairbrush, but she’d heard the tell-tale clunk of a prosthetic limb outside. Angela was not willing to go out to Jamie for two reasons. Number one, she looked disgusting. He was _not_ seeing her like this, end of. Number two, he deserved an explanation. Like Sombra, most new members did not know about the declaration issue, despite it not being a secret. She’d tell him, but the fact remained as to how he’d react. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now.

Angela was well and truly stuck.

That was, until Ana bustled in. Clutching a massive, decorative handbag, she tutted in sympathy. “Oh, Angela.”

A feeble smile quirked her lips upwards. “I know. I’m weak.”

“No, dear. You’re human.” She dug in the bag, retrieving a brush and a bottle of water, offering them to her. Angela took them gratefully, first uncapping the water to quench her parched throat. “I thought you’d be in need. It’s not every day nasty bits of your past get dug up and put on display like that.”

Ana understood. There had been an official investigation into her skills when she’d offered to help with Amélie’s retrieval. And yet she’d stood strong.

“I know that look,” she interrupted. “Angela, I’ve had plenty of bad moments. Nobody saw them because I didn’t want them to.”

“I sure as hell didn’t want anybody to see _this_ ,” the blonde grumbled as she began to yank the brush through her hair.

“Gently dear. Gently. You’ll rip it out, and then your young man out there won’t have a blonde to moon after.”

Angela snorted, but relented, and brushed gentler. “That reminds me,” she continued off-topic, wanting to think about anything but her current state for the time being. “How did you know Jamie and I were going out to bet on it?”

The woman laughed. “This bet has been going on for a little longer than you think.” Leaning in, she spoke quietly. “The week after that boy joined, we were on the practice range. He missed a shot, and hurt his hand. Not badly, but it bled. I offered to help, but he shook me off, and headed for your office, happy as Larry. The next week, it was his foot. Stepped on a grenade, he said. Off he skipped to see you, forgetting to look distressed at all. And then…” she paused wistfully. “It was relatively obvious by that point. So, I made the bet, and Jack thought I was crazy. And he’s right. But I still won, so there. Never take a bet against me darling, I always come out the victor.”

Angela was stunned. “That’s why… then… _what?_ ” It had been _months_. He’d been coming into her office at least weekly since the start, and she simply hadn’t noticed. She’d called him clumsy, laughed at the silly jokes he’d thrown her way, and simply nodded as he’d said all the little, superficial injuries sustained were erraticism of ADHD.

She’d overlooked the fact that the root cause of his injuries was herself.

“All this time?” she eventually choked out. If her eyes hadn’t been so dry, there would have been yet more tears.

Ana patted her shoulder. “If you’re worried about what he thinks, don’t be. The boy’s waited long enough for you. He’s not going to run away anytime soon.”

The slightest breath of wind could have blown her over. It was so much to take in, and as per usual, the smallest of details came to mind. _Coffee._ “Sombra didn’t tell him… he knew…” _Oh God, how did I miss this?_

Angela was a very smart woman, but that didn’t stop her from being insanely dense sometimes.

“How did you know I would like him too?” she asked cautiously.

Ana retrieved her hairbrush from between stilled fingers, sliding it into her bag before grinning widely. “You have a type. That type is tall, and the possession of a good rear doesn’t hurt either.” Angela blushed hard, almost spluttering out a defence, but deciding against it. She was right, after all. “Don’t lie to me Angela, you made Genji’s body. I noticed the major ass-et you gave him, if you’ll pardon the pun.” She winked.

“Then why didn’t you think-,”

“You and the Shimada? Hah!” Ana laughed, swiping her eye dry. “Don’t forget, I heal too. I know the pain that boy can be.”

And with that, she left, the door swinging shut behind her with a final click as it settled.

_Well,_ Angela thought as she splashed water on her face. _That was something._ A few more pieces of the puzzle that made up Jamison Fawkes had fallen right into her lap, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them.

And Ana Amari knew she had a thing for tall people with nice behinds. The ultimate bisexual attraction.

Well, wasn’t that great?

*

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya, one way or another, I'm gonna win ya-,”

A guard knocked his baton against the grate. “Quiet in there! Lights went out ten minutes ago.”

“What does it matter?” A voice lazily called back. “I’m the only prisoner in the entire block.” The woman returned to her singing, continuing to throw a ball of elastic bands at the ceiling as she did. It bounced, ricocheting off the concrete in time with the rhythm.

“One way or another, I'm gonna see ya, I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya…” She trailed off, sighing delicately as the ball slipped through her long fingers, rolling to the floor. It bounced three more times, then stopped a foot shy of the door.

Diving dramatically backwards onto the creaky prison bunk, Moira stared upwards. There really was nothing to do but wait. Unfortunately, the grey six-by-eight was overwhelmingly dull.

It would be nice to finally have visitors. Maybe they could convince the guards to give her a TV. A Naruto boxset wouldn’t hurt either.

Such luxuries weren’t usually afforded to war criminals, but due to their current… _predicament_ Moira was certain the goody two-shoes agents from Overwatch would be more than accommodating. It wasn’t like they could torture information out of her, oh no, no, no. That job had always rested with Blackwatch, conducted behind closed doors and out of sight. The bureaucratic mess the organization had become of late meant no such thing could occur without the UN’s immediate realisation.

Not that it would yield results anyway. Her pain tolerance was unimaginably high.

So, they’d try to woo her into handing over secrets. They’d give her small favours, tokens. Things to be frittered away. Then, unknowingly, they’d hand her an opportunity on a silver platter.

An opportunity with wings and a halo on top.

Moira grinned and shut her eyes. She wouldn’t sing again before then, saving her voice for Mercy. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hum.

After all, if music be the food of love…

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... it's been a while... things came up, but I managed to get this chapter wrapped up after some serious writer's block.  
> I hope you enjoy it *^^*  
> And can I just say, biker!Mercyrat???


	9. Purple Lipstick Print

_Mierda._ It was a damn mess. The conference room had been in complete chaos when Sombra had stepped out to accompany Lacroix for a cigarette break. She’d started smoking some time ago, her lack of caring a driving force behind it. Sombra understood, but tobacco wasn’t something she was really interested in. What she _was_ concerned about was the other woman’s regression. The emotionless delivery of her story to the congregated agents, her apathy towards Angela’s disappearance… it was worrying.

And as for the doc… she was equally concerned about her too. The mere suggestion that they’d have to speak with Moira had ignited some sort of fight or flight response, and Angela had taken off, barely holding herself together. Junkrat followed not long after, then Amari left to look when they didn’t come back.

The issue now lay with the fact that the doctor’s reaction had not been an anticipated one. Sure, Moira had hurt her by joining Talon, and the damage to her career was another thing, but the look on her face. The fear. It wasn’t normal.

Lacroix clicked her lighter shut, snapping her from those thoughts. She had to stay in the moment, watch the woman she was with carefully. The thought of her not noticing when something was wrong made her skin crawl.

Taking a deep inhale, Lacroix turned to stare at the sky, breathing out diaphanous white against the dark. “It’s ugly here,” she murmured.

“Yeah. Things are getting real messy-,”

“No,” she interrupted. “I meant the city, not the situation.”

“O-kay?” It was an odd topic, that was for sure. “I mean, London has never been that great to look at.”

“You can’t see the stars.” She lifted the cigarette to her lips again, and shut her eyes. “When I feel lost, I try to look for them. They’re a constant. But this damn light pollution is in the way here.”

“Why do you feel lost?” Sombra asked. Anything that would get her to talk about the state she was in would be good.

Lacroix was silent for a moment. Eventually, she sighed, stubbing out the unfinished cigarette against the wall. “Because there’s a lot I can’t remember. I want to help find Reyes, but I have a sneaking suspicion the memory came back too late.”

Sombra inched closer. “You’ve done more than enough. We know who to question and it’s a priority now. Even if we’re… too late you will have still helped put peoples’ minds at ease. They’ll get closure.”

“Even so…” she trailed off, and Sombra frowned.

“You know that. There something else bothering you _araña_?”

Lacroix flushed, but a crease formed between her brows. _Umm, o-kay?_ “It’s not really appropriate…”

She was embarrassed. _That’s new._ “Since when am I appropriate? C’mon, you can tell me.”

“It’s… it’s about you.” Sombra’s eyes widened in surprise, but she let her continue. “Why don’t you call me Amélie?”

“O-oh, I’m just used to saying Lacroix.” _Not true._ When she’d called her name in desperation before, it had been only the second time she’d used it. It was just…

“ _Liar._ ” Lacroix’s voice was like a stab in the gut.

“What?” Glancing up, Sombra saw that although the blush from earlier was still present, the frown had distorted, becoming thunderous. She wasn’t happy.

“You lied. That’s not the reason.”

Trying desperately to compose herself, Sombra smiled. “I don’t know where you’re getting that from, but-,”

“I fucking remembered.”

 _Oh._ She didn’t need telling what had been remembered. The look on her face was enough. Sombra’s eyes snapped down, and she felt like shrinking, vanishing into the ground just to avoid the pure rage being shot her way.

“You-,”

“You told me you loved me right before Amari darted me. You said my name then.”

 _And I’m guessing that’s what triggered it._ “Lacroix, I-,”

“Don’t lie to me. I don’t like that.” Lacroix turned and stepped forwards, forcing Sombra’s back against the brickwork. Caging her in. “You said it.”

She had to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“And meant it?”

“Yes. But I-,”

Her words were cut short when Lacroix’s lips collided with her own. It was brief, simply to press against them and retreat, leaving only a faint taste of smoke behind. Wide-eyed with surprise, Sombra could only stand and stare, until finally, _finally_ something clicked within her. The woman she’d pined after for God knows how long had just kissed her, and this time it wasn’t a fantasy or cruel dream.

_Mierda._

“I-,” Lacroix began, but it was Sombra’s turn to cut her off this time.

In one swift movement, she reached up and pulled her face back down, mouths colliding once more. And oh God had she needed it.

Thankfully, Lacroix responded in earnest, parting her lips to kiss back with a passion that rivalled her own. After so much time spent fruitlessly yearning for her, it was exhilarating. She could feel her heartbeat thrumming in her ears, deafeningly loud.

And then when Lacroix moaned, a wonderful, throaty sound, she felt her pulse travel south and pulled her closer. Sombra was starving, and the way the woman moved, the way she twisted against her as hands wound into her hair was almost enough to send her over the edge. She was pinned against the wall, every curve of her body pressed tightly into the embrace. Hitching a leg up to bracket Lacroix’s hip, she pulled her closer still. As if that were possible.

Sombra shuddered as a hand dragged down her side to hold her thigh in place. It was fire. Everywhere she touched burned, aching for more, and after so many years of absolutely nothing suddenly everything was too much.

Lacroix broke the kiss, pulling back for breath and to reposition, cheek to cheek. Her ragged breathing was loud in her ear, but Sombra didn’t care. It was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

“No more secrets,” she whispered between breaths. “Tell me why you don’t use my name. And tell me why I don’t know yours.”

“Names… are difficult. They’re a pretty intimate thing for me, and I was afraid.” It was embarrassing really. “I was in too deep, and just the sound of it made me want to make you mine.”

“Well I am now. So use it.”

It had been that easy. The woman still locked in her embrace was _hers_. All those sleepless nights, the guilt she’d felt deep in her soul, everything gone in an instant. And all over a name.

“Amélie, I love you.”

The woman exhaled again, a rough sigh of relief. “ _Ma chérie_ , I thought I was the only one.” Sombra felt a wetness on the side of her face, and realised she was crying. This beautiful creature wrapped in her arms was weeping. “My emotions may have been suppressed, but they weren’t gone. Especially towards the end.”

“You mean…” Amélie pulled back to look her in the eyes as she spoke, and suddenly she wasn’t the only one crying.

“I loved you then, and I love you now.”

Sombra had no words. In less than ten minutes she’d gone from worrying about Amélie’s mental state to confessing her love and receiving _that_ as a response. It was just so overwhelming. But she had to say something.

“I-I… _mierda. Me amas…_ ok,” she muttered, trying to make sense of the situation.

Amélie chuckled and reached out to wipe a tear from the side of her face. “You don’t know what to say. I understand.”

She did. She really did, and that just made everything ten times more confusing.

“…Holy shit.”

“How eloquent.” The woman smiled and leant in to steal another kiss, almost as brief as the first but heartbreakingly tender.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” Sombra finally choked out.

“I think I do, actually.” Amélie paused expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Realisation hit her like a brick. “O-oh, my real name is Olivia. Olivia Colomar.”

She grinned. “Olivia, huh. _C’est parfait_. It suits you very well.”

Something in Sombra’s chest tugged painfully. The way her name rolled off Amélie’s tongue was pure perfection. In all honesty, it had been years since she’d heard someone say it, insisting on her alias for safety. It was going to take some getting used to, but she was certain she wouldn’t mind if Amélie was the one helping her.

*

Angela took one last look in the mirror. Her eyes were still red, but not as noticeably as they had been before. The puffiness had dissipated almost entirely thanks to the cold water she’d been splashing on them. She was calmer and ready to face the others at last.

Gathering herself, she exited the bathroom. Just as she’d suspected, Jamie was still waiting, sat on the floor scowling at the wall. As soon as he heard the door, amber eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“Jamie I’m-,”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he smiled reassuringly. “I get it.”

“You really don’t.” Sighing, Angela sank down next to him. She needed to tell him at least some of the details. It simply wasn’t fair that the others knew and he didn’t. “And I _am_ sorry for disrupting everything. I don’t usually… panic like that. Things are complicated.”

“It’s about Moira, isn’t it?” She almost winced.

“Can-can you not say that name right now please?” Angela asked tentatively. His eyes softened, and Jamie raised an arm, offering her a place nearer him. She took it gratefully, nestling against his side. Just like before, a hand rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“Panic attacks are an old friend,” he said after what seemed like a deal of thought. “S’ alright. I understand.”

They sat quietly for a while, Jamie simply giving her time to relax. Finally, she spoke.

“She was my girlfriend.” His hand stilled, but only for a moment. Angela hadn’t expected him to know, and that was confirmation enough. “We dated for two years while she was in Blackwatch. When she moved on to Talon she…” _Betrayed me? Broke me?_ “… stole intel through me. Overwatch didn’t know anything about our relationship, and I had to tell them everything.” She gritted her teeth against the prickling nausea threatening to return. “I don’t talk about her.”

“No shit,” Jamie muttered. “What a cunt.”

His crass support was encouraging, and Angela chuckled in response. “I’d rather not ever hear the name again, let alone have Gabe’s rescue depend on her telling us anything.”

“Makes sense.” Their eyes met again, and concern was plain on his face. “You sure you want to work this? I bet Morrison would let ya sit out until they brought Reyes in if it’s too much trouble.”

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting any of this.”

Jamie hummed thoughtfully. “If you’re sure. Although I’ve got a feeling you won’t hafta work stuff to do with her anyway.”

“It’s doubtful. I’d assume that task would be handed to Jesse and Genji.”

“Blackwatch.” Nodding approvingly, he smiled. “Yeah, that’d work.”

“I think I can go back now.” It had been worrying her for a little while, the meeting seemingly having adjourned for her absence.

His brow crinkled. “Only if you want to.”

“I’m okay.” It was sweet, she thought. The level of respect and kindness he was giving her without imposing too much worked, and despite still not feeling 100%, Jamie’s presence had certainly helped matters.

Pushing up off the wall, Angela stood and turned, extending a hand to the man still sat on the floor. He took it with a smile, and soon the two were headed back. Jamie didn’t say a word the entire way, but the silence was comforting.

The others seemed to be mostly working when they returned. Sombra and Amélie were missing from their seats and the rest were wrapped up in other activities. Ana was drinking a cup of tea and scribbling words onto a notepad. The two Blackwatch members present were reading a file that lay in front of them. Presumably it was Moira’s. Jack sat next to them, pointing out lines and facts that caught his eye.

There was something mildly suspicious in the reaction to their return. Jack had briefly looked up when the door opened, only to nod and go back to staring at the file. The others had similar responses. Nobody asked what happened. It was almost as if nothing had.

This had Captain Amari written all over it.

Ana met Angela’s inquisitive glance and gestured that she come and sit with her. Gently pulling Jamie with her, she complied.

“Tea?” The woman produced a thermos and two plastic cups from her handbag, and before waiting for an answer, pulled off the lid and began to pour. “It’s with milk already I’m afraid, but that always seems to help when you’re not feeling your best.”

Angela sat and took the cup gratefully, waiting for Jamie to receive his before taking a sip. It was strong and hot, and somehow exactly what she needed. “What else do you have in that bag? A hairbrush and water are normal, but tea and cups as well?”

Ana unclipped the clasp to show them both the contents.

“Wow,” Jamie said, leaning over to gaze in admiration. “That’s a lot of knives.”

“And a flare gun,” Angela murmured. “How do you not set off every metal detector in the building with those?”

“The guard at the front desk owes me a favour. He lets me through every day without question, and my lips remain sealed.” Chuckling, she fastened it back closed. “Many people in the world owe me favours. They always honour their word.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Ana had always struck her as the kind, grandmotherly type, but thinking about it, the woman’s past probably meant she terrified some people. It was fascinating.

“Speaking of which, I had a little word with Jack, and he’s promised not to bring you into matters unless absolutely necessary. That should have been the case from the start.” She scowled, and even from across the room Angela could see the man in question stiffen uncomfortably.

“It’s ok. He didn’t know things would turn out like this.”

“Even so…” she sipped her drink slowly, glaring at the back of Jack’s head.

At that moment Sombra and Amélie returned, breaking the tension. The taller of the two shot Angela a sympathetic glance before taking her seat. Unfortunately, it was completely lost on her, as she was too busy staring at Sombra.

“Oh,” Angela murmured, a sly smile working its way onto her lips.

“What?” She could hear Jamie trying to stifle a laugh and failing.

“Would you like a makeup wipe, dear?” Ana asked, reaching for her bag again. “Jack, would you mind handing over that other 50 you owe me?”

“What?” he barked. “I don’t owe you – God damn it!”

Sombra, still clueless, glanced at Amélie who was quietly shaking with laughter. “I was going to tell you _chérie_ , but you wouldn’t let me talk for long enough.”

There was a purple lipstick print on her cheek.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo oops, exams and coursework got in the way, but I'm on summer break now, so expect more frequent updates!  
> I LOVED writing this chapter. Certain aspects are a bit messy at the moment, but I'm all here for scary Ana and Spiderbyte finally mushing faces! *^^*


	10. I Don't Wanna Kiss the Cat

Angela tossed her keys onto the countertop, shuddering slightly at the noise they made. It was surprising really. After the cacophonous noise of Jamie’s bike, she’d acclimatised to the silence of her house in mere seconds, and now…

The front door shut quietly, almost making her jump. Jamie was obviously trying to be considerate to her neighbours, as it closed with a click rather than a slam. She mentally thanked him before heading into the kitchen.

The meeting hadn’t lasted that much longer after her return. It seemed like Jack and the Blackwatch duo had things under control. Really the rest of them had been nothing but a distraction after Ana collected the rest of her money. The thought made her smile. It was good that things were in motion between Sombra and Amélie. They deserved some happiness out of this whole situation.

_Speaking of which…_ Angela turned to face the tall man leaning against her fridge. “Would you like a drink? Some food, perhaps. We didn’t eat after all.”

Jamie grinned and straightened up. “Tea would be nice if you’ve got any.”

She nodded, turning to a cupboard. “I have a few types, although I doubt herbal would be to your tastes. Would regular breakfast tea be ok?”

Snorting, he quirked an eyebrow up to answer her. “Yeah, with milk and two sugars if ya can.”

Angela busied herself making Jamie’s tea, although what had at first seemed a simple task, became far more difficult when she noticed how her hands were shaking. She managed to retrieve a mug and unceremoniously dump a teabag in, but a small cascade of sugar made its way onto the countertop as she attempted to add it. Using the small noise the kettle made as it was switched on to hide her embarrassment, she sighed. _Some date this turned out to be._

Turning to retrieve the milk, she walked right into Jamie, who had moved from the fridge to behind her. Angela swallowed and looked up. All the way up. _God he’s tall._ One corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. It was tender, expressive. His eyes echoed the same; amber irises gentle in their gaze. Her breath caught as he raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it lightly before sliding his fingers over the hair at the base of her skull.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured, drawing her face into his shoulder. Angela came willingly, resting her forehead against him with closed eyes. Jamie continued to wind his fingers through the blonde strands at her nape. It felt so good, easing away her tension like a hot shower; a warm, slow shudder moving up from her toes to the tip of her scalp. It almost made the thought of tea vanish. Almost. The bubbling of water and a loud click brought her back to reality.

“Your tea…” The words didn’t want to leave her lips, threatening to intrude on their closeness.

“It can wait,” Jamie slid his other arm up to encircle her shoulders. “You can’t.”

Well. _I can’t argue with that,_ she thought, sinking further into the embrace. Being crowded against the counter in such a manner was certainly much more pleasant than the process of making a cuppa, and it just felt so _good_. Unfortunately, there was still a rigidity in her shoulders, distracting her somewhat.

Without warning, she was suddenly lifted off the ground. Letting out a squeak of surprise as she found herself hoisted over a strong shoulder, Angela tried to turn and shoot a confused look at Jamie, but in this position that was impossible.

“Jamie, what-,”

“You’re doing it again,” he cut her off, heading for the living room.

“Doing what?”

He didn’t respond, instead finding the sofa and placing her down gently. There was a thick wool blanket draped over the back of it, which quickly found its way around her shoulders. Disappearing for a moment, Jamie reappeared holding two steaming mugs. He set them down on the coffee table before taking a seat and drawing her to him once more.

“S’ chamomile. I thought ya might wanna relax a little.” The thought touched her, but Angela was still confused.

“Thank you, but what am I doing again?”

His huffed sigh was loud and a hand reached up to twine into her hair again. “Not askin’ for help when you’re struggling. S’ ok, I get it,” he reassured her as she lifted her head to say something. “S’ part of who you are. The doc, I mean. Ya care about others, but neglect yourself because you’re too busy, or tryin’ ta put on a brave face.”

He was right, of course. Angela’s face burned as she flattened her cheeks against his chest once more. “And here was me thinking I was the healthcare specialist in the room.”

Jamie chuckled, the noise rumbling beneath her ear as he smoothed her hair once again. “That’s the problem though, ain’t it? You’re stressed all the time, an’ then today happens… ya just need a little while to chill.”

“Mmm.” _So that’s what this is._ Angela had to admit it certainly wasn’t unpleasant. Wrapped up in a blanket with a mug of tea and Jamie, she felt the most relaxed she had in, well, probably since before med school. The troubles of the night wavered at the fringes of her consciousness, but the hand on her head was working miracles dispersing them. He was playing with the blonde strands that escaped her usual ponytail, tucking them back behind her ear with an almost reverent touch. That was until Angela felt the release of a hairband being removed.

“S’ in the way,” Jamie murmured, pushing a section that had fallen over her face back.

“I wasn’t complaining.” Smiling into his chest, she nuzzled a little closer. “That thing’s been bothering me all day.”

“Yeah, me too,” his voice was husky, lowered. But there was no time to think about those words because his hand was suddenly in her hair, _properly_ in her hair, and thinking was impossible.

_God, I needed this._ It was so good, the light pressure caressing her scalp was just enough to elicit another full body shudder as she sank into his touch. Another chuckle and he changed the angle, moving to caress the side of her head.

“How are you so… _amazing_ at this?” Angela all but moaned as he traced the delicate skin behind her ear.

That got another soft laugh. “Would’ja believe me if I said I’d never done it before? Well, not on a person anyhoo.” Seeing her brow crinkle a little, he moved to smooth the crease with his thumb. “Now don’t take offense but Roadie’s got a cat. She likes it behind the ears too.”

“Ah.” Biting back a giggle, Angela twisted up to look at him. “And I suppose I should feel honoured receiving the same treatment as your flatmate’s pet.”

Jamie snorted, then his eyes met hers and the witty retort that had been on the tip of his tongue seemingly evaporated. His thumb swept down her cheek, eyes falling to her lips, and Angela’s mouth went dry.

“Well.” He seemed hesitant, obviously wanting to say something, but unsure whether he should. A moment later, his face cracked into a small smile.

“I, err, don’t wanna kiss the cat, so you’re already winning in terms of my affection.”

And then he leant in.

And kissed her forehead.

“Now you’ve had a long day,” he murmured, hand moving to stroke her face again. “An’ I’m not gonna push you any further. But if I actually kiss ya, it’s gonna make leaving impossible and you need sleep.”

Angela was about to interrupt, but she quickly realised he was right. Although that did nothing to stop the ache that had materialised in her chest. He’d waited for her. Waited for the right time for months, and now here she was making him wait even longer despite wanting this herself. Both keeping the knowledge that Ana had shared with her secret and not letting him take her lips here and now felt wrong, but Angela knew some things were better left until she was fully awake and able to appreciate.

Jamie smiled as she nodded in agreement. “Good girl. We still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Would I say no?”

“Well ya might…” a pointed glance sent his way cut off that thought before he could elaborate. “Alrighty then, I’ll drop by first thing.”

After disentangling himself from the blanket, Jamie stood up and downed his entire mug of tea. Pulling a face, he cursed. “Let it go cold. Kinda like one big, lukewarm shot now. Ya might want to get a fresh one.”

Glancing at her own untouched mug, Angela smiled. “I’ll pop it in the microwave for a bit. It’s only really got stronger sitting there, and I prefer my tea on the concentrated side.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jamie said, shouldering his jacket.

She walked him to the door. It was only polite. And the door had to be locked too. It was absolutely nothing to do with the aching need for him to touch her again, to draw her in and press his lips against her. And when he did just that, arms around her shoulders and fingers in her hair as he kissed her temple, Angela melted into the embrace.

Too soon he pulled away, grabbing his helmet from the side table, and stepping out into the night.

“Sleep well Angela.” She watched him mount the bike and ride off before shutting the door.

Some time later, after chamomile tea and reruns of ancient sitcoms dulled her racing thoughts, she succumbed to dreamless sleep.

***

Back flush against her bedroom wall, Sombra was currently having the time of her life. _It’s funny what a couple of words changes,_ she thought as her _girlfriend_ peppered a scalding trail of bites down her neck. The last nip was a little rougher than the others, and she knew the evidence of their evening would be plain to see the next day. It seemed Amélie had just realised this too as she lavished the spot with kisses before lightly trailing her tongue up to just below Sombra’s jawline. She shuddered hard.

“A-aren’t spiders supposed to eat their mates, _araña_?”

The woman paused in her ministrations to huff a chuckle against her skin. “Occasionally my dear, but somehow I don’t think you’d mind being eaten,” she practically purred. The thought of Amélie’s dark head between her thighs had a guttural groan tearing from Sombra’s throat as she firmly pulled the other’s lips to her own. If the taller woman minded the rough treatment, she didn’t show it, reciprocating in earnest.

It had been far too long since anyone had touched her, and never like this. She’d always been the one in control, quietly disappearing before the sunrise with nothing to signify she’d ever been there but the marks and bites painted on the flesh of one-night stands. Because she was never truly there.

But Amélie was neither a casual hook-up or passive, and as she broke away from the kiss just long enough to purr the word “Bed,” Sombra found herself thrilled with the prospect of this unbridled enthusiasm. Apparently, she was taking too long, because an annoyed grunt of impatience and a tightening of arms was the only warning she had before being tossed onto the sheets.

Sombra was stunned for a moment before tilting her head to watch as her girlfriend’s nimble fingers worked their way down her shirt, unbuttoning the tiny fastenings at a rapid pace. Knowing this was probably going to be the last time for a while a coherent thought would be able to leave her lips, she struggled up into a sitting position.

“Y-you’re sure about this though? You want to… this isn’t…” she swallowed hard. “This isn’t because today was shit, because if it is, I can wait-,”

Amélie stopped, shirt half open and smiled. “If I didn’t want to do this, I would not be removing my clothes. And yes, today has been disgusting, but that is not my motivation. I am simply doing something I have wanted for a while. Now unless you have any objections…?”

Sombra flushed. “What about an insanely hot French chick stripping in front of me makes you think I’d say no?”

That earned her a smirk. “Crass as always _ma chérie._ ” The shirt fell away, and there she was. Perfect, pale skin, obscured by only a utilitarian black bra.

“ _Guapa,_ ” Sombra breathed, taking in, well, everything. The way her skin dimpled at the clavicle, her tattoos looking completely different now they weren’t framed with blue… despite the revealing nature of her uniform as Widowmaker, her breasts seemed far more appealing now. _Because it’s actually her._

She was so entranced, the steps Amélie took to cross to the bed went entirely unnoticed, and suddenly those same hands were tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.”

_Well, mierda._ She scrambled to assist in the removal of her own top, not particularly caring where it was flung. The sooner those pretty hands could be on her bare flesh the better.

Amélie traced a finger over the scalloped edge of her bra. “ _C’est belle,_ that colour on you.” Sombra had no idea what she’d grabbed that morning, and frankly didn’t care. She was so close, just an inch more…

When she was roughly pushed back to lie down, a surprised gasp turned into a moan as finally, _finally_ fingers found their way to her breast. It was a light caress, barely worthy of being called a touch especially since her bra was in the way. But holy fuck it felt good.

And then Amélie was straddling her, hands either side of her head and grinning like a predator. Sinking down to press a gentle kiss to her neck, the woman began to lower herself, until her mouth came level with her chest. Sombra sucked in a breath when she realised what was about to happen, but then that sweet, sinful mouth started to suck her through the fabric, and she almost came undone right there and then.

Somehow, her hands found their way up and onto the woman’s incredible ass, and she squeezed experimentally, as if still doubting the reality of the situation. Amélie hummed in response, and bit down lightly before yanking the bra out of her way. Her nipple was already hard, but the woman’s cool breath made it painfully so. Sombra let out a small whimper.

“Eager aren’t we, _chérie?_ ” Reaching out, she lightly stroked the tip.

“ _Please._ ” Producing a coherent word required great effort at this point, and the hacker prayed she wouldn’t have to repeat the process. Thankfully her partner took the hint because abruptly that wicked tongue flicked across, and then Amélie’s mouth was on her, lapping at her peak. Sombra arched up into her mouth, and felt deft hands sneak behind to unclip her bra. Within seconds it was gone, the chill of the room barely having a chance to hit her exposed skin before her other breast was covered.

A garbled cry left her lips because Amélie Lacroix was sucking her tits. All the times she’d fantasised over this perfect fucking woman and now it was actually happening. A sudden absence of contact almost had her protesting, but it was soon over, the woman switching to pleasure the other side with her mouth. Although the hand that had previously lavished her with attention was curiously missing. Sneaking a glance down, Sombra saw why. _She’s touching herself. Mierda._

Amélie’s hand was working feverishly at the juncture of her own thighs, rubbing long, delicious strokes that made her wish she was the one giving them. And then those delicate fingers dipped below the waistband and she lost it.

Holding on tight, she rolled them so that their positions were reversed. Amélie looked a little surprised, but that dark smile was back again, and she raised her hands to pinch Sombra’s nipples as she rose up.

“Aaaahh,” she moaned. “You’re too good at that.”

“So are you apparently,” her girlfriend smirked. “What was it you said? You’re good with your hands?” She tilted her head. “Show me.”

“Way to put the pressure on,” Sombra muttered, but she scooted down to the edge of the bed. Amélie propped herself up on her elbows to watch through hooded eyes as the slacks she wore were yanked down and tossed… somewhere. It really didn’t matter.

What did, was the soaked pair of briefs that stood between her and a certain intimate area. One she was determined to take her time with, no matter how much she wanted to dive right in. With shaking hands, she dragged those down too, not missing the slight shudder from the other as her slit was exposed.

“I could look at you forever, _araña,_ ” she murmured. In response, the woman unclipped her bra, dropping it to the floor.

And Sombra could only stare.

Amélie Lacroix was probably the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. Scratch that. _Definitely._

“You can touch you know.”

_Where do I start?_

***

“This is a bad idea Jack.” McCree eyed the metal grill before them. “We need to actually plan what we’re gonna do before bustin’ on in there.”

“Time’s not on our side,” the white-haired man ground out. “And I’m willing to negotiate upgrading her cell to something more comfortable. With agreed times for interrogation, rather than this.”

Jesse sighed. “Look boss, it’s been a long day. For all of us.”

“It’s been much harder for Gabe. We’ve got to help him.”

“I know, an’ I’ve got someone working over the papers Talon left behind. I just think it’s a bad idea to do this before we know if there’s anythin’ in them.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” There was no arguing with him. Jack was desperate, and all Jesse could do at this point was help.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what have we here??? Smut? In MY fanfiction? >:)  
> This chapter is a 2-parter, so expect a bit more from Sombra and Amélie next time!!  
> Also did I mention Roadhog is a cat person? You might get to meet her later.  
> Until next time *^^*  
> p.s. It's been a while. My updates should be a bit more frequent now I don't have work or uni and know I'm not gonna starve haha.


	11. Still My Patient

The knock didn’t surprise her. What did, was the late hour the knocker had chosen. Moira smirked, sitting up on her bed. _I expected them sooner._

“Come in,” she purred, crossing her ankles. The door swung open, and there was Morrison, broad frame filling the doorway. She’d always been quite impressed by the geneticist who’d designed him. And Reyes, of course. Those rippling muscles were no feat of nature after all. Then again, the two of them had been somewhat of an anomaly; the serum taking more effect than on many of the other subjects. She’d seen the failures, heard the screams and pleas for death. They did die eventually. But only after their shortcomings were examined. Tested.

It was all for the greater good. They'd agreed that long ago.

But that was then, and more pressing issues were at hand. Soldier 76 was not one to beat around the bush. “O’Deorain, we’re here to discuss the terms of your permanent living quarters.” Focusing in on him again, she blinked deliberately.

“Hmm, it appears so. However rude you are.” She quirked a brow, words dripping in sarcastic nonchalance. “You chose not to exchange pleasantries, and at this late hour… Why should we be discussing this now? Why the urgency, Commander?”

Morrison moved into the cell, which was rapidly becoming much smaller as two more bodies walked in.

“You’ve brought company. Jesse and Genji, no less!” McCree raised his fingers to the brim of his hat gingerly. It appeared to be no more than reflex guiding him, a knee-jerk reaction to a greeting. He hated her, after all. The cyborg raised a brow, folding his arms. A more stoic reaction, but a reaction nonetheless, which from the Genji was something major. The fact that even now she was able to elicit such a response was testament to the legacy she'd left. “What brings you here so late?”

Moira kept her face carefully schooled. There was no particular reason for it. They would have known she was aware of the situation to visit in such a manner. But mind games were oh so much fun, especially when the subject knew they were being toyed with. It almost made her smile. Almost.

The Commander’s expression was also blank, but his posture was tense and unforgiving. “We have reason to believe you know the location of a remaining Talon-affiliated clinic. In exchange for information, we would offer you a more comfortable cell to serve your remaining sentence in.”

“A more pleasant place to die, you mean.” It wasn’t a question. “Well I find that most interesting,” she hummed, pretending to look pensive. “And if I think about it, I might know something after all…” Morrison’s slight shift in posture didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the glance that passed between the two other agents. “But, I have my own terms. My memory is rather hazy. If they are not met, a vital piece of information might just… slip away.”

“Tell us, and we’ll decide if they’re appropriate,” McCree growled, the venom uncharacteristic in his southern drawl. _And there’s the loathing._ She was going to have fun with this.

“Firstly, I believe a better room was on the cards? I want internet access, limit it however you want, but I definitely require streaming sites and the news. My brain is numb with boredom.”

“Done,” Morrison ground out from between clenched teeth. She waved a hand at him.

“I’m not finished. It’s been awfully lonely here, and none of you have so much as visited since I was arrested. I want some company.”

“Depending on behaviour, socialisation hours with the other inmates-,”

“Not them.” She paused for dramatic effect, taking in each expression that faced her. The Commander’s scrunched brow, McCree’s scowl. “I want to see Angela.”

“ _No._ ” Genji suddenly went from having seemingly no interest in the conversation, to looking like he wanted to rip her throat out. Why, if it wasn’t so imperative that she remained neutral, Moira would have laughed. “She can’t-,”

“Can’t what, agent?” Finally letting a small smile creep over her lips felt so satisfying. “Request a visitor? One who happens to be a fully capable agent of your organisation. _That_ is not an unreasonable term.” Reclining backwards, she let her eyes drift shut contentedly. “And you can cut the pretence, Commander. I know what you’re really after. I am the only person who can help you find him.”

The cat was deep amongst the pigeons. And it was only a matter of time until the bloodshed began.

*

_Where do I start?_

It took Sombra a few seconds to snap out of her trance and realise that the heated looks sent her way would stop pretty fast if she just sat there and stared. And then it hit her. _Shit._

“I need to take these off first.” She wiggled her fingers at Amélie, whose eyes widened at the sight of the acrylics.

“Good idea,” she murmured thankfully, propping herself up to watch. Sombra moved quickly, disconnecting the tips and slipping them off along with the bracelet that contained their power source. A little stealth update that made them look like regular nails when she wasn’t in combat clothes. She thanked every power above that she’d had the intuition to make them so easily removable. Dumping them on the bedside table, she turned her attention back to the woman in her bed.

Raising a trembling hand to Amélie’s face, she drew her into a deep kiss once again. Mostly to calm her own nerves. Sombra internally cursed. She was acting like a damn teenager, but for the moment it was all she could do not to completely lose it. The other woman smirked against her mouth but only intensified the embrace further. Of course Amélie knew how nervous this made her. At least she wasn’t put off by it.

Taking the chance, Sombra ran her fingers down, tracing lines onto her skin. Feeling a shudder from underneath her, she pushed her girlfriend back onto the mattress, following her down with barely a break in contact.

That shudder stopped the moment her hand ghosted over soft curls, replaced by tension as both women sucked in a breath.

Time seemed to hang still until Sombra dipped a finger down into that wet heat and stroked. And then… _Oh God._ The sound Amélie let out was unlike anything she’d ever heard from the woman. It was some kind of stifled moan, the sound swallowed in their kiss. _No more encouragement required._

She moved slowly and more than a little awkwardly for a few minutes, unsure as to what exactly the woman needed until she broke contact for a moment.

“ _Mon Dieu,_ if you stop now, you’ll regret it,” Amélie hissed darkly. _Guess I know what she wants then,_ Sombra thought, increasing the pace and pressure until her gasps came thick and fast.

“Better?” The sob that followed was a reward, but she had other prizes in mind. Pulling away had her girlfriend deliriously crying out, but by the time she realised what was about to happen, Sombra was already pulling her thighs to rest on each shoulder.

She whistled, lazily brushing past her clit with a fingertip. “What a pretty sight you are, _araña_. All soaked just for me.” She knew it was mean to tease like this, but frankly Amélie’s needy whine was a major ego boost.

“S-Sombra…” she whimpered, trying to twist and cover the scant inches between them.

“Ah ah, not so fast.” Another feather-light caress followed, but this time she let her finger once again sink into that liquid core. It was removed too soon amidst protesting groans. “I’ve always wanted to be between your thighs, so I’m gonna take my time.”

It was a powerful feeling. Such a strong, formidable woman undone by her hands. It was as close to begging as she as going to get, which in itself was exhilarating. Sombra repeated the motion again and again, making the woman before her more of a quivering mess with every touch. Each time Amélie trembled hard, gasps coming louder than before. And each time when she stopped, those deep eyes flashed impatiently, as if she meant to curse but simply could not form the words.

Sombra was about to relent and give her what she needed when a thin voice wailed “Please, Olivia!” and she almost stopped altogether.

Amélie, refined and reserved Amélie was actually pleading for her mouth. And not only that, but she’d said her name. The real one. And suddenly all Sombra wanted to do was hear it again and again, screamed from her lover’s lips.

Her control on the situation snapped. With a small snarl, she slid her index finger inside, curling it upwards as her tongue found the clit. Hands worked their way into her hair, yanking down with surprising force, their open-mouthed groans barely discernible from each other.

After the torturous teasing she’d given her, Amélie was very quick to orgasm. Barely thirty seconds later, Sombra felt her tighten, and then a rush of wetness enveloped her tongue. Taking care to gently lap it up as her partner shuddered in afterglow, she carefully pulled away, and crawled up to find that perfect mouth again. They kissed for a while, Sombra taking the chance to languidly explore before snuggling her face into Amélie’s neck.

“You’re so perfect, _araña_ ,” she murmured, reaching out to caress the blue locks that tickled her nose. “And I’m gonna enjoy making you come like that in all sorts of ways later.” Hearing a satisfied hum, her lazy grin grew. “But that will be later. For now, we sleep.”

Amélie pulled back, a small crease forming between her brows. “You didn’t come.”

“No.” Sombra reached out and tapped her nose. Despite the concern, her spider looked exhausted. “But I will later. Besides, just watching you was enough for now.”

“Did you really enjoy it that much?”

“Didn’t you?” She smirked as Amélie’s cheeks flushed.

“That is not what I meant. And my… _embarrassingly_ quick finish should answer that question.”

Sombra paused, pretending to think for a moment. “Then if you had that much fun… I definitely did too.”

“Hmm… if you’re sure…” Amélie was fighting back a yawn. _Preciosa,_ she thought as she stood up to turn out the light. Pulling the covers up over that perfect body was a crime in itself, but Sombra knew there would be plenty of time to appreciate it further later.

_Besides, she’s not going anywhere. Not now._

*

It felt like a normal Wednesday. Angela had got up at a normal time, brushed her teeth and put on a normal pencil skirt and blouse. Even her journey into HQ had been relatively normal. Yet as she sat in her office chair, drinking her _normal_ coffee, and reading over her _normal_ morning briefing that Athena had sent her like she would have on any _normal_ day, Angela felt quite uneasy.

It wasn’t like she was trying to forget the events of the night before, oh no. Besides, whilst fighting Talon, she’d had much bigger things on her plate. Much more dangerous things at that. But something about the timing of everything felt… odd. Just as she’d started to get her life back together, just as she’d accepted her past being what it was. Just as she’d found someone who cared.

Someone who was due to arrive in her office any minute now and take her to breakfast. Angela’s lips quirked up in a small smile. She was probably overthinking things. Thankfully, Jamie was remarkably straightforward.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Metal on wood. But something was off. That wasn’t Jamie’s knock.

“Come in,” she called, taking a long draught of coffee. It helped hide her disappointment when, as she’d suspected, the person who opened the door wasn’t the one she’d anticipated. “Jesse. What a pleasant surprise.”

_Something’s wrong._ As soon as he stepped over the threshold into her office, the harsh lighting brought his features into focus. McCree was trying to smile, but the expression wasn’t quite making it to his face, instead distorting into a pained grimace. The bags under his eyes were a stark contrast to his unusually pale skin, and Angela fought back a gasp. If years of working on her bedside manner had taught her anything, it was not to make someone feel worse by reacting in such a way.

“Yeah, well… ah, screw it.” He pushed her office door to with a little more force than necessary. “No, stay sittin’.” Gesturing at her vaguely, he took a seat on the edge of her desk. Angela would have normally swatted him with a sheaf of paper for that, but his general manner had her concerned.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, allowing an edge of professional anxiety into her tone.

If McCree’s face had held any vestige of wellness before, it was gone now. His brow creased, eyes turning dogged and strained. “… No.” The whimper was the only warning she got before he pulled her into a tight hug, crushing her cheek to his chest.

“We tried, Ange. We really did. M’ sure Gabe would’a been able to get somethin’ outta her, but the damn bitch ain’t talkin’.”

Angela’s heart sank. “But why would she refuse? Surely there’s _something_ we can use as a bargaining chip…”

“There is,” he bit out sharply. “But Morrison’s dead against it. We all are.”

“What is it?” Pulling out of his arms to stand and rest her own hands on his shoulders, she shook him a little. “Nothing but her freedom is really off-limits.”

“Classified.” McCree shook his head. “Jack’d have my hide if I told ya.”

“Jesse,” she murmured. He wasn’t looking at her; eyes trained on the floor. Bringing her palm to his cheek, she guided his face upwards. “I’m just as involved in this as you. I can help.”

“It’s not a question of whether you can help or not. It’s not an option. The lead is dead.” He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

And that’s when it clicked.

“It’s… me. Isn’t it.” Angela took a step back, ignoring the clatter as she backed into her chair. _It’s not a question of whether you can help or not._ “She wants something to do with me.”

McCree cringed, finally looking up. “I said you’d be smart enough to figure it out. But it doesn’t matter. Like I said, not an option.”

“But Gabe…,”

“Ange, just drop it. We’ll find another way. Like I said to Jack, I’ve got someone workin’ the case. It’s only a matter of time before-,”

“Before what, Jesse?” She blurted the words out, feeling a flush of rage pass through her. “Before Moira gives in? Before you find some little detail that takes you on a wild goose chase? Before Gabe _dies?_ ”

“I swear t’God Ange, we’re gonna find him-,”

“And you’ll be too late when you do!” Angela all but shrieked. A hysterical giggle bubbled its way through her trembling lips. “You know just as well as I do that it could take _months._ Maybe even _years_. We’ve been looking everywhere for him, _Jack_ has been looking everywhere for him.”

“Ya think I don’t know that?” McCree yelled, angrily standing up. He took a step forwards, invading her space. “Ya think _Jack_ doesn’t know that? We all know that this is probably our only chance at findin’ him alive, but even Gabe wouldn’t put you in any situation with that bitch.”

“And since when has Gabe been my keeper?” She was angry now. Furiously so. “How dare any of you try to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“She fuckin’ abused you! You of all people should know what even mentioning her name does-,”

“I am not helpless,” she hissed, raising her chin. “And I am perfectly capable of making my own damn decisions. It is not going to kill me to see her, but it will kill Gabe if I don’t. So now-,” she pushed McCree out of her way, grabbing her keys from the desk before wheeling round to face him once more, “I am going to see Jack, and get him to tell me the specifics, being as you are obviously not thinking straight.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak to stop her until she reached the door. Then-

“Please Angela.” She turned, and her chest clenched. McCree’s posture was still tense, but his hands shook and for the first time in many years, she saw tears beaded in the crinkles of his skin. He looked thoroughly and utterly defeated. “Please don’t do this. Be selfish for once in yer life. Reyes would understand.”

It was heart-breaking. But Angela knew there was only ever going to be one answer. “I took an oath when I became a doctor,” she murmured gently. “Gabe is still my patient. And I am going to help him however I can.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took so long to get out. Personal issues aplenty, and I kinda lost the love for this chapter. It took me a while to get it back, but I'm glad I did before posting. This was a pivotal moment in the plot, and I wanted to explore some of Angela's other relationships in Overwatch. I hope I did Jesse justice.
> 
> And on a side note, I have an announcement to make. While I was making this chapter, I realised there is another character's romance in this tale. One that will become more apparent as the story progresses. And one I am going to write after I have finished this. It might be a while in the works, but there will be a sequel of sorts starring everyone's favourite cowboy and his elusive 'researcher' who I promise will show up in a few chapters' time. You know, because time zones are a bitch, and Japan is a hell of a long way away ;)
> 
> Until next time *^^*


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